A Farewell to Innocence
by xoxoeosvugirl
Summary: Max has been kidnapped and held at the School, an illegal NYC research organization. Meanwhile, journalism student Fang works to uncover the truth behind her disappearance-and the School itself-and Manhattan is thrown into chaos. Full summary inside!
1. Prologue

**A/N: Due to a lack of interest in Rescued, I decided to delete that story and upload a new one instead. It is based off of the plot of Bonfire of the Vanities by Tom Wolfe, and of course is a MR story! **

**Plot: **Maxine Martinez, a sixteen-year-old girl from New York, has been kidnapped by corrupt doctors and held at Itex, an illegal research facility. Meanwhile, Columbia journalism student Nick "Fang" Ride stumbles upon his possible big break when he discovers Itex's possible crimes. He makes a deal with the District Attorney, Robert Chu, to use the case to help him get re-elected. As Max and her friends at Itex, nicknamed the School, work to escape the company and its evil Director, who has a few secrets of her own, the reputation of Itex declines as the public begins to learn what they have done. Over the course of three chaotic weeks in New York City, everyone's lives intertwine in one of the largest conspiracies known to the Big Apple.

**Genre: **Crime/Political Drama

**Rating: **T for language, crime, and some sexual behavior.

**Pairings: **Max/Fang, Nudge/Iggy, and some Jeb/Anne

All human. Also, Gazzy is not included in this story.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Maximum Ride, Bonfire of the Vanities, or any public figure referenced in this story.

Please read and review!

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><p><strong>Prologue <strong>

**New York City Hall**

"What do you have to say for yourself, Mayor Bloomberg?" an angry New York City citizen shouted.

Mayor Michael Bloomberg swallowed nervously. What did he have to say? It wasn't his fault the Itex trial had been dismissed. He wasn't even in charge of that kind of stuff-it had been the DA, Robert Chu, who prosecuted the case. He used the investigation to prove to the public he could crack down on white-collar crime, or in this particular instance, white-_coat_ crime.

The master plan had worked, for the most part-Mr. Chu had been re-elected, and the reporter who uncovered the case, Nicholas "Fang" Ride, was now a famous reporter. But at the last minute, the trial against the Itex doctors and scientists had been thrown out. The public was outraged, and they wanted blood, no matter whose it was.

That was just how it was in New York, just another fact of life.

"Asshole!" another person shouted. The mayor felt something hit him in the side. It was a half-eaten apple. How classy.

_You think you have a right to be mad at me?_ the mayor thought angrily. _I didn't do anything. The Director, Jeb Batchelder, Anne Walker, Roland ter Borscht, you should be tearing them apart, not me. They're the real criminals._

Deep inside, he knew that the public would be at least as offensive to them once they came out of hiding. They had nothing now, and nowhere to turn. Hospitals and labs wouldn't hire them as researchers. At best, the criminal employees of Itex could look forward to a bright future bagging groceries or waiting tables.

Convicted or not, nobody would want the likes of the Whitecoats in their city-the city Bloomberg himself, Giuliani, and others had worked so hard to clean up. New York had improved since the seventies and eighties. Sure, there were the seedy sections, but overall, the new Manhattan was nothing like its predecessor. But still, to find an illegal medical lab right in Midtown-what a disgrace! How awful! Midtown Manhattan-the home of Times Square and the Empire State Building.

The media had a field day, and Bloomberg had taken the blame for the failure to convict the criminals.

"Now listen-LISTEN!" Bloomberg shouted. "We can't guarantee every suspect in the city's convicted-"

"But what about the children?" a woman demanded.

Ah, yes, what about the children? You see, Itex had committed the ultimate criminal faux pas, kidnapping and experimenting on innocent NYC children and teenagers. Sure, any crime was viewed with contempt, but harming children was seen as even more horrific.

"The victims have all been returned to their families or placed in foster homes and have received restitution payments-"

"I don't give a _fuck_ about the damn restitution payments! You can't bring the kids who died back to life! It could've been my son in there! Right in Manhattan!"

Mayor Bloomberg's security guard pulled him off the podium. "This press conference is over," he announced, shutting off the mayor's microphone.

The mayor reluctantly watched as the crowd erupted in conversation, swarming around him like angry bees. He thought of the people who were seeing this all go down on live TV-especially people who wanted him out of office.

_You selfish bastards, sitting in your apartments in Park Slope or SoHo or Madison Avenue, you wanted a taste of the real New York,_ he thought. _Now you're getting it._

All hell had broken loose in the city-and it was all because of one girl: Maxine Martinez.


	2. The School

**Three Weeks Earlier **

**Stuyvesant Town, New York**

Jeb Batchelder was a man in his late thirties. He was well-off and attractive, and well-educated as well, having studied at Yale Medical School. But at that moment, he was indistinguishable from any of the other New Yorkers headed to work.

Yet he was different. He worked at Itex, a rogue research center in Midtown Manhattan. Itex was no ordinary company; they relied on crime and secrecy, using abducted kids as human guinea pigs. And Jeb was one of the top doctors there, subordinate only to Dr. Marian Janssen, the Director.

It wasn't as bad as it sounded; really, it wasn't. Things used to be much worse. While they used to keep the kids in cages and barely fed them, now, everyone had their own room and was given nice clothes and food and even a book once in a while. Given that a lot of the children (Test subjects? Victims?) were homeless, Jeb didn't think it was so horrible. And plus, they were helping find new cures for diseases! It was almost like a...a boarding school. In fact, it was even called the School. And schools weren't bad, right?

"Damn it," Jeb swore as he dropped his briefcase on the sidewalk. All of the papers spilled out.

"Rough day, Batchelder?" Chuck Pearson, his neighbor, jeered. Pearson was a self-made success. He owned his own six-figure company, Intelinet. Jeb wasn't sure what they did-something in online marketing. All he knew was at age forty-one, Chuck Pearson was making at least twice as much money as Jeb. And he didn't hesitate to remind Jeb of that fact as often as possible.

"Good morning to you too," Jeb muttered. He picked up the paper quickly before Chuck could get ahold of it. It was a report from one of the latest experiments, a report that could land Jeb in jail if it fell into the wrong hands.

Chuck glanced suspiciously at him. "What's the matter, Jeb, buddy, afraid you might lose something?"

"It's for work," Jeb snapped.

"Of course. The ever-elusive Jeb Batchelder, off to work at God knows where."

"Don't you have anything better to do than stand here mocking me?" he asked. "Honestly."

Chuck looked Jeb up and down snidely. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said.

Jeb sighed, picked up his briefcase, and continued his walk to the subway.

At the same time, Nicholas "Fang" Ride was walking down the street, headphones in his ears. He could be described as an intellectual: Fang was a Columbia journalism undergrad who liked listening to The Decemberists and walking along the East River as the sun rose. He had never had a steady girlfriend, despite his good looks. Being a bit of a loner, finding a girl wasn't one of his priorities.

Instead, he preferred to focus on his writing and reporting. Especially his latest assignment: investigating the disappearance of a girl named Maxine Martinez from the Lower East Side. She had been gone almost a month with no leads, and the assignment-for the New York Times, no less-was taking up much of Fang's time. Who had time for relationships when someone's life was on the line?

Fang noticed a damp piece of paper on the ground. It appeared to be some sort of medical report. He could only make out a few words: "experiment," "procedure," and "results." He shrugged, placing the paper in a nearby trash can.

After all, it was every New Yorker's duty to keep the city clean.

**Itex Laboratories **

**Midtown Manhattan**

Maxine Martinez sighed as she heard the door to her "room" at the School open. Max was sixteen and had long blonde hair and blue eyes. Before she had been kidnapped, she attended the elite Xavier High School in New York. However, after she had been kidnapped, she was kept at a place called the School, which despite the name had a) no teachers (except for the doctors asking her if she'd ever learn to shut her mouth) b) no books (except for those lame-ass medical books they read) and c) nothing productive to do (except stay put as they poked and prodded you 24/7. There, she was used as a guinea pig for new medical treatments.

"Haven't you heard of knocking?" she snapped. She had just been subjected to an unnecessary (in her opinion) test for a new method of removing kidney tumors, despite the obvious fact that she didn't even have cancer.

It was quite ridiculous when you thought about what went on at Itex, but to the "doctors," who Max called the Whitecoats, it was not only a marketable money-making scheme but a reliable way of testing new procedures. How these procedures ever got past the FDA with the test data, Max had no clue.

Jeb Batchelder entered, looking around. "I think we can fit one more bed in here," he said to the Whitecoat he was with, a tall, blonde woman.

As she always did, Max looked up at the window that was in the room, wondering if it was reasonable to try to fit through and jump. She was on the sixteenth floor of a Manhattan high-rise, so survival was unlikely. But how worse was death really than this?

"You're getting a new roommate," the blonde said, smiling. "Isn't that lovely?"

"Yeah, party time," Max said sarcastically. "Now if you could kindly leave, that'd be great."

Jeb looked up, as if asking the powers that be for help. Max was sure that if there was a God, He wouldn't waste his time on the Whitecoats. He had bigger fish to fry, like the poor kids on those "Save the Children" guilt trip commercials. Or like the "residents" of the School itself.

"Max, if you'd just cooperate with us for once, we could help you out more. You know, it's a good thing to have friends you can count on-"

"I have friends!" Max shouted. "You assholes ruined that when you snatched me off the street. I don't need you people as friends!"

"Should I sedate her?" the blonde asked.

Jeb shook his head. "Clearly you need some time to unwind. I'll check up on you later. In the meantime, do you want any coffee or something? I could get you the paper so you can do the puzzle. What New Yorker doesn't like the Times?"

An idea formed in Max's head. "Sure. Thanks." She was suddenly grateful that Jeb made an attempt to care about her, unlike the 99% of people there. He meant well, he really did. Whether it was bringing her better food or letting her use the shower first, he treated her pretty well for someone who was constantly injecting her with God knows what.

"I actually have a copy on me." He pulled out the newspaper and a pen. Jeb smiled. "So...I guess I'll see you tonight."

"Guess so." Max took the paper, rolling her eyes. As soon as the door shut behind Jeb, she pulled out the paper, flipping through until she reached the "New York News" section.

_As children disappear from NYC boroughs, NYPD on high alert,_ the headline read.

In the margins of the article, Max began writing.

**ITEX IS NOT WHAT YOU THINK. I NEED HELP. -MAX MARTINEZ.**

She then opened the window, savoring the rush of fresh air, folded the section into a paper airplane, and let it fly.


	3. 36th and Broadway

**A/N: THANK YOU, Lovemeforlife, for the super nice review!**

"Great plot! Really original! I haven't seen anything like this before! Keep writing!"

***sniff* You're too kind (': **

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><p><strong>New York Times Headquarters<strong>

**Offices**

"What is this, kid?" Al Rosenberg, an editor for the New York Times, asked, looking at the piece of newspaper Fang had handed to him.

Though he was assigned to be Fang's mentor for his project, Al had better things to worry about than pieces of trash. He was a busy man with a wife and two kids. Al was a pretty successful man, having built enough of a nest egg to survive the economic downturn. He knew what sold in the journalism world, and it wasn't ripped-up newspaper covered in bird excrement.

"Read the margins," Fang urged. "See what it says?_ 'Itex is not-'_"

"I can read," Al snapped. Then he softened, scanning the paper. "How do I know this is real? They've been looking for that girl for weeks. If she's even alive, I doubt she has access to the Times."

"She's alive," Fang insisted. "I just have this feeling..." He had seen pictures of her, she was a pretty blonde girl. He had no idea what they were doing to her, whoever "they" was, but he was sure it wasn't good. When sixteen-year-old girls were kidnapped, it usually didn't end well.

Despite that, he had a deep inkling that she would be found. Alive.

"Yeah, well, you need a lot more than feelings in this business, kid," Al reminded him.

"What's Itex, anyway?" Fang asked.

Al rolled his eyes. "You haven't seen their ads? 'Itex-Building the Future In Medicine Today.' It would help if people actually knew who the people who worked there were, and there's something shady about a medical company advertising on the subway, if you ask me." He looked at the paper. "Maybe these guys are worth checking out. I know they have an office on 36th and Broadway. Go over and check them out. Try to get a few words out of someone who works there."

"Sounds good." Fang nodded. "I'll head over there today."

It all worked out. He had been meaning to go to Midtown to take some pictures of the Empire State Building for his Tumblr anyway.

**The Director's Office**

Marian Janssen sat back in her office chair and admired her various degrees.

A BA in biology from Hunter College, an MBA from NYU Stern, and an MD from Columbia. She would describe herself as an academic success, though she wasn't doing so well in the following-the-law department. After all, she was the Director of an illegal organization, the 2011 equivalent of a mob boss.

Then again, the Director didn't follow anyone's rules but her own. It all started when she was six and began jaywalking. Then, she didn't stop for cars; cars stopped for _her. _Now, it was the same, she didn't answer to others; everyone answered to her instead. The only suitable place for her was at the top.

"Director!" a doctor said, opening the door.

"What?" Marian snapped.

"There's a kid outside who's not leaving. He's taking pictures and everything!" the doctor said. "I mean it. He is _not leaving._"

The doctor, named Brigid Dwyer, was thirty, though she was as insecure as a fifteen-year-old. She lived in Williamsburg and enjoyed riding her bike down Bedford Avenue. She was a quintessential hipster, though she would never dare use the term to describe herself. All in all, the whole illegally-experimenting-on-children thing not withstanding, Brigid was your typical Brooklyn girl.

Lately she had been having second thoughts about her day job. She felt kind of bad about what she was doing. Maybe Brigid would open up her own research center in Williamsburg. Except, you know, not kidnap people and all that. But a job at Itex wasn't one that was easy to leave.

Marian sighed. Brigid was so dramatic. Couldn't she see there was nothing to worry about?

"Should I get the Erasers to take care of him?" The Erasers were security guards hired by Itex, mostly CIA rejects. They got their name because of their...extreme...ways of removing undesirables.

"Brigid, sweetie, you're forgetting we're in tourist country. We have to be subtle," the Director insisted. "Now, who knows what would happen if we were caught killing someone in broad daylight." Marian stood up. "In fact, why don't you properly introduce yourself?"

Brigid nodded and rushed down to great Mr. Photographer.

After what felt like hours of waiting around, the tinted door of Itex Laboratories finally opened.

"Can I help you?" a girl asked. She had brownish-red hair and was wearing Ray-Ban glasses, a black skirt, and a pink top with about three long necklaces and a scarf underneath her lab coat. She reminded Fang of the girls he saw hanging around Brooklyn and lurking on the L train.

"Um, yeah," Fang said. "I work for the Times, and I need to talk to you guys about something. Are you...are you in charge here?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, no. Not me. That's the Director."

"Can I talk to the Director, then?" Fang asked.

"She doesn't really talk to people. Ever. She's kind of a bitch and a half." She giggled. "And Jeb and Anne are out so...it's just me! I'm Brigid, by the way."

"Nick." Fang didn't feel like using his nickname with a total stranger. "Anyway, what's up?" Brigid asked. "Well, I found this on the street." Fang pulled out Max's note.

Brigid nearly gasped when she saw it. Maxine Martinez was Jeb's daughter, biologically speaking at least. Jeb had finally caught up with her and brought her to the School about a month ago. Unfortunately, her mother, Valencia, hadn't been too pleased with the event and reported the disappearance to the NYPD. The story had become top news. Max was highly valuable to the School, as far as Brigid knew from water-cooler conversations. They had lost her when she was a baby; they couldn't afford to lose her again.

She decided to play dumb. When one worked for a company like Itex, one couldn't be too deceptive. The whole operation relied on lies, and there were severe consequences for anyone who didn't follow Itex's code of ethics (or lack thereof).

"Isn't that the girl who went missing last month?" Brigid asked innocently.

"No shit, Sherlock," Fang snapped.

"Hey! You don't have to be _mean_," Brigid insisted. "I was just asking a question!"

"Then you won't have a problem explaining what this is about." Fang crossed his arms. He was getting more and more suspicious of Itex and those who worked there. Wait until Al got a load of this. He'd laugh his ass off, right before he blew the whistle on the sketchy lab.

"I don't _know_ what this is about!" Brigid yelled. "We're a legit company."

Fang sighed. "Look, Brigid. I'm sure you're telling the truth." Boy, did he feel like one of those TV detectives-one from Law and Order: SVU, maybe, or The Closer. Even Southland. "But the readers of the Times might have a different opinion. And this," he waved the paper in the air, "is pretty damn suspicious. So if there's anything I should know-"

"There isn't," Brigid said quickly. "Everything's cool here."

Fang glared at her. "Everything's cool? Great. Then we'll just wait and see what everyone else in the city thinks." He turned to walk away.

"Nick, wait," Brigid said as soon as she was sure the guard at the door wasn't listening. "Do you have a pen?"

Fang pulled one out of his canvas bag. She grabbed Fang's hand and wrote on it:

_The High Line above 23rd and 9th _

_Wednesday _

_3 PM_

"I have to go," Brigid whispered. "But meet me there, in a few days, okay?"

Fang nodded, looking at the information. He had a feeling something serious was about to happen.


	4. An Accident

**A/N: Hello lovely readers! Thank you to all who are reading this. If you could review, that would be appreciated! Judging by the traffic stats lots of people are reading this, it doesn't take that long to type a review and it's very encouraging (: Thankkk you! **

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><p>"Where'd the Director want us to look?" Anne Walker, an Itex doctor, asked Jeb Batchelder.<p>

One of the perks (ha!) of having a job there was having the responsibility of having to collect new victims. All of the rest of New York, all the Wall Street bankers and regular doctors at the Bellevue and NYU hospitals didn't know how lucky they had it.

Jeb shrugged as he turned the key to start the engine of his work car, a silver Acura. He would've rather had a BMW or Audi, but the Acura was good enough. Reliable. Safe.

"Wherever we can find random kids, I guess," he said.

Anne looked at him peculiarly. "You okay?"

Jeb was feeling slightly guilty. He didn't like having to experiment on his own daughter, Max Martinez, but he had been given no choice. He owed the Director one too many favors. Anyway, he was pretty committed to the business. His own son was training to be an Eraser. Half of him hoped for a normal life, but how could he after all he had already done? He had killed people and watched people be killed. Kidnapping had become a weekly affair for him. Nope, he was all in, double or nothing.

"I'm fine," Jeb answered. He flipped on the radio to avoid answering any more questions.

"I love this song," Anne mentioned, pointing to the dashboard. An LCD Soundsystem song was playing.

_New York, I love you, but you're bringing me down _

_New York, I love you, but you're bringing me down _

_Like a rat in a cage, pulling minimum wage _

_New York, I love you, but you're bringing me down_

"Really?" Jeb asked. "I stopped listening to them once I heard their stuff on Gossip Girl."

Anne laughed. "You hipster. Wait-you're admitting to watching Gossip Girl?"

"No," Jeb insisted. "I saw an episode with my niece once. Anyway, I'm more into Florence and the Machine now."

"Same. Have you heard Ceremonials yet?"

Jeb had a sneaking suspicion most kidnappers and mad scientists didn't sit in the car casually talking about music, but what else was there to talk about?

"No. Not yet. Too busy with...you know...everything."

Anne nodded, looking out the window.

"You ever get the feeling that maybe this job isn't altogether, you know, honorable?" Jeb asked suddenly, breaking the awkward silence.

The song continued playing:

_And oh, take me off your mailing list _

_For kids who think it still exists _

_Yes, for those who think it still exists_

_Maybe I'm wrong, and maybe you're right._

"Well, I took this job right after school," Anne explained. "I don't know anything else, really. But, you know, that's how it goes sometimes." She half-smiled, as if in acceptance of her destiny to live a life of crime.

"I guess." Jeb decided to drop the conversation.

"Where are we going?" Anne wondered out loud.

Jeb looked out the window. Lost in thought, he failed to notice how the skyscrapers of Manhattan had become patches of burnt-out grass and low-rise industrial buildings. Their surroundings reminded Jeb of Bridgeport, Connecticut, the city he had worked to escape as a boy.

"Shit," he swore. "I don't have a clue."

Anne looked anxious. "One hundred forty-eighth street...I've never been this far uptown before..."

He looked around again, only then noticing the sign that said "Welcome to the Bronx, NY."

Anne gasped as if she had just seen a ghost.

"What are we doing here?" she demanded.

Jeb bit his lip. He prided himself on being knowledgable about New York's geography, but his skills didn't extend to the outer boroughs. Manhattan-no problem, but Queens, Brooklyn, the Bronx, Staten Island? Forget about it. He'd rather stick to the familiar comfort of the Manhattan grid.

Jeb slowed down as he drove through the heart of the South Bronx. He saw a pair of shoes-Air Jordans-stuck on top of a barbed-wire fence.

_Who in their right mind would stick shoes on barbed wire?_ he thought.

Further down the block, Jeb saw a prostitute sleeping on the sidewalk and a homeless man talking to himself. Yikes. The Bronx made the School look like the idealistic Catholic school from those "Madeline" books.

"Do you know your way out of here?" Anne asked nervously.

Jeb nodded. "Relax, Anne. It'll be fine." Still, he pressed the button to lock the car doors.

"How about them?" Anne pointed to two teenagers-a pretty, African-American girl and a tall boy with brown hair.

"What about them?"

"We could bring them to the School," Anne suggested. "Two for the price of one. Wouldn't the Director be happy?"

"I don't know," Jeb said. "Things could get ugly around here."

"We could get the Erasers." Another useless suggestion. How long would it take them to get here? By then, the kids could've already killed Jeb and Anne, or mugged them at least. True, Jeb always kept a vial of enough lorazepam to knock someone out for a good long time, but who knew what the Bronx kids had on them? A handgun or knife, maybe. There was a good reason Jeb rarely ventured outside of the Manhattan borders.

"Let's go," Anne said, opening the door. She had already filled a syringe with her own lorazepam.

"Anne, stop!" Jeb felt like hitting himself in the face. Walking into the South Bronx with nothing but drugs to defend yourself wasn't a smart move. Definitely not what you'd expect from the nation's best doctors.

"Anne!" Jeb shouted chasing after her. By then, the two kids had already started walking towards the car, curious as to what was going on.

He finally grabbed her arm, pulling her back into the car.

"Jeb, let go," she snapped. "The Director-"

"The Director would do the same thing as me," Jeb insisted. Actually, she'd probably just go for the kids, even if it meant getting killed. She would have her way if it meant her death.

"Hey! Who're you? What do you think you're doing?" the girl shouted angrily. She stood over the car, glowering.

"Forget it! Drive!" Anne shrieked, closing the car's door.

Jeb stepped on the gas pedal, slamming the far into gear. A loud "thump" shocked him. He hit the breaks.

Anne and Jeb sat in silence. "What was that?" Anne asked ominously.

She had an idea. A bad one.

Jeb looked towards the back of the vehicle. The boy lay flat on the road, while the girl stood over him. "Oh my God."

"What?"

"Nothing. Just an accident."

"What the hell! That's my boyfriend!" the girl shouted, pounding on the car window. "Hey, fuck you! I'm calling the cops on your ass!"

"Let's get out of here," Jeb said, pressing on the gas once again. He floored it and drove like a madman until he saw the sign for the bridge back to Manhattan.

"I need a damn drink," Anne muttered, shaking her head.

Jeb didn't respond at first. "Do you think we should tell someone?" he asked. "Like the police?"

"And tell them what? We killed someone during a kidnapping attempt?" Anne snorted. It was pretty funny, actually. Oh, the irony of it all.

"We didn't kill anyone," Jeb insisted. He saw him move. The guy was moving, right? He had to live.

For some reason, this bothered him. Watching innocent children lose their lives during tests or surgery had never affected him, but for some reason this accident with a boy he didn't know and would never see again haunted him.

"What should we tell the Director?" Anne asked.

Jeb rolled his eyes. Again with crap with the Director.

"We couldn't find anyone. There were too many people around to risk it. We didn't get lost in the Bronx and get in an accident. Okay? That's what we'll tell her."

Anne nodded, still shell-shocked.

The next day, Jeb exited his apartment in much better spirits. He had chalked up the events of yesterday to just an honest mistake. It even made him laugh a little bit. Hey, for once they weren't the aggressors in the situation. It was those two Bronx punks causing trouble. It was as simple as that. Jeb and Anne had narrowly escaped a dangerous situation. They were lucky to be alive! Jeb felt much better. It wasn't their fault. How could it be?

"Morning, Batchelder," Chuck Pearson greeted him, smiling like a vulture ready to eat its prey. Jeb instantly became insecure. Did he look too suspicious? He had a lot to hide, of course, but he was sure it didn't show. Did it? Could Pearson tell who he really was by the expression on his face? How he wore his hair? His clothes?

"G'morning," Jeb said, nodding.

"What happened to your jacket?" Chuck pointed at a rip in the side of Jeb's peacoat.

Jeb felt embarrassed. When had that happened? He hadn't even noticed.

"Here I thought the good doctor always wanted to look nice and sharp. Guess I was wrong."

"You know, Chuck, with all due respect, shut your mouth for once," Jeb snapped. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Chuck was silent, mouth agape.

Jeb smiled. He had won this battle for once. Forget possibly killing a Bronx teenager and kidnapping his own daughter. He was still Dr. Batchelder, after all.

Still smiling, he descended down the stairs into the subway station.


	5. Into the Jungle

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! I appreciate them a lot, so don't hesitate to drop me a line! Here is Chapter 5, enjoy (: **

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><p><strong>The Bronx<strong>

District Attorney Robert A. Chu advanced up the street from the subway station towards his work at the Bronx District Courthouse. This was no ordinary commute, mind you. Such a journey required skill and a lot of wits. Not to mention an absence of any sensitivity whatsoever. Mr. Chu had to keep his face blank and his eyes forward as the vagrants shouted obscenities and racial epithets at his back.

"Hey, you Ching-Chong, go back home!" someone yelled.

Mr. Chu rolled his eyes. He wasn't even Chinese, he was South Korean, and his family had lived in America for three generations. Then again, anyone using that type of language probably wasn't well-versed in ethnic history.

He likened his trip to work to an expedition. He was the explorer headed deep into the jungle. Unfortunately, unlike the Indiana Joneses of the world, Mr. Chu was hardly as respected. At age forty-three, most of his classmates from Rutgers Law School were already making at least six figures at comfortable business jobs. And what was Mr. Chu doing? Prosecuting the dregs of society and putting his life in danger on a daily basis.

The only person who remotely appreciated his work was Al Rosenberg, his closest friend since college. Al now worked for the New York Times and always loved to hear about the latest nonsense that occurred on the streets of the Bronx.

He walked through the door of the courthouse, breathing a sigh of relief. He had made it here alive once again.

"What's the latest, Andy?" Mr. Chu asked Detective Andrew Wilson, the chief of New York City's 86th precinct. Andy Wilson was forty-five and as jaded as a police officer in New York City could be. He was a well-built man with a slight drinking problem, which he attributed to the horrors of life as a homicide detective in the most crime-filled section of New York. His job was both predictable and unpredictable at the same time. One day, it was a shooting, the next a domestic disturbance. On that day, it happened to be an unfortunate automobile accident.

Detective Wilson placed a file on Mr. Chu's desk. "Hit-and-run yesterday. Monique Jones, also known as 'Nudge,' reported that she saw a woman holding a syringe walk over to her and her boyfriend, James 'Iggy' Griffith."

"Damn junkies," Mr. Chu interjected, shaking his head. "Go on."

"Then, Nudge said the woman got back into her car, when the man driving tried to get away and hit Iggy, who is now in a coma at Bellevue," Detective Wilson finished.

"Did they get the license plate number?" Mr. Chu asked.

Detective Wilson nodded. "Yup. The car was registered to Jeb Batch-el-der," he pronounced. "He's not in the system, but I called the car dealership and got his information. White male, age thirty-nine, lives in Stuyvesant Town in Manhattan. He works at some place called Itex."

Mr. Chu nodded. "Go pick him up then."

"I think we need more evidence-"

"Did you hear me? He's the prime suspect in a hit-and-run. _Pick him up_."

Mr. Chu's temper and eagerness to arrest this Batchelder fellow was due to the elections coming up. He was losing favor with the public of the Bronx. According to his constituent base, he was too elite and upper class (living in his tiny apartment? Good one!) to relate to the people of the Bronx slums. They needed someone they could count on. Well, Mr. Chu was their man. They just didn't know it yet.

He picked up his phone and dialed Al Rosenberg's number.

"Al, it's Rob. Have I got a hell of a story for you!"

**The School**

"Let go of me!" Max shouted as two doctors attempted to hold her down. She hadn't fought back against the Whitecoats in a long time. One thing she learned was that in the School, survival was key. If you defended yourself in any way, they wouldn't have any problem "retiring" you, as the Director referred to it.

Max heard the Director mentioned a handful of times. She had never met the woman, but already despised her. It wasn't unreasonable to despise anyone who kidnapped people. People like Angel, her twelve-year-old "roommate." Angel had only been at the School a few days, but was being used as a test subject for a new antidepressant. Those kind of tests were the worst. Once, Max had been forced to take a medication for bipolar disorder. She had been fucked up for weeks before they finally realized it wasn't safe for anyone to take.

Looking at Angel broke Max's heart. She was only a little girl, for God's sake. She was beautiful, but just looked so sad all the time.

_Once I get out of this hellhole, I'm taking Angel with me,_ Max thought definitively.

"Roland, Anne, leave her alone," Jeb said, opening the door to the "doctor's office."

"She's terrible!" the male Whitecoat said in a heavy German accent. Roland ter Borcht had escaped Germany after being arrested for illegal experimentation (unsurprisingly). So far, he was succeeding in not getting caught, although he was already frustrated by the people he had to experiment on. They were just so...feisty. He figured it was because of America's emphasis on human rights and all that crap. Couldn't they see the rights of one lousy person paled in comparison to the benefit of society?

"I said, leave her alone," he insisted. Then, he smiled. "How're you doing, kiddo?"

_Kiddo_. Jeb always spoke to her like they were two good friends talking in Starbucks. The hypocrisy was obnoxious. Today, however, Jeb seemed different. Off, somehow. He seemed tense, as if he was worried he was going to get caught for something. Well, he had good reason to be tense. Max would be a little worried about getting caught if she was him, or any of the Whitecoats, for that matter.

She suddenly remembered her note. It had probably gotten lost or flown into a gutter somewhere. Oh, well. It was worth a shot.

"I'm fine," Max said emotionlessly.

"Don't let Dr. ter Borscht or Dr. Walker push you around," Jeb said. "Anyone around here gives you shit, you come talk to me."

"Everyone around here does give me shit," Max insisted. "Isn't that the whole point of this place."

Jeb sighed. He sure was a big sigher, that Dr. Batchelder. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Oh, I understand perfectly what goes on here," Max said, her voice dripping sarcasm.

He ignored her. "You remind me of my son. One of these days I'd like you to meet him," he continued. Then, he checked his watch. "After my lunch break, of course."

"Of course," Max repeated in the same deadpan tone as before.

"Be good, okay?" Jeb said. He stood up. "And remember what I said."


	6. Fall of Rome

**A/N: The trailer for A Farewell to Innocence is up now on YouTube! Watch it here: **

www (dot) youtube (dot) com (slash) watch?v=fVltKqU1Q0Q

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><p><strong>Itex<strong>

**Midtown Manahttan**

As Jeb, Anne, and the Director were walking out of Itex for lunch, Jeb spotted his son Ari guarding the door.

Ari was sixteen, the same age as Max. He too attended Xavier High School and had goals of working in finance. Unfortunately, it seemed those goals would never be realized. At the ripe old age of twelve, he had been coerced into becoming an Eraser for the School by Jeb, his father, and the Director. Neither of whom he particularly liked very much. If he had his way, he would much rather live with his mother, Ellen Thomas, in New Jersey rather than be sucked into all this illegal research nonsense. But nobody had their way when the staff of Itex was involved. Instead, he was forced into this lousy job.

"Good job, son," he congratulated him, nodding.

"Hey, Dad, I need to talk to you," Ari Batchelder said, stepping out of his position to talk to him.

Jeb looked towards the door, where his colleagues stood waiting for him. "I'm on break right now," he reminded him. Jeb wasn't the most sentimental father on earth.

"I'm your _son,_" Ari insisted. "Look, we need to talk about college."

"What about it?"

"I want to go," he said. The previous day, his guidance counselor had given him a "get-your-shit-together" speech. His grades were good enough-he had those good Batchelder genes-but had no direction, she had said. How could he? He wasn't allowed to talk to anyone about what he did. He had no life outside of real school and the School. Even his friends were growing suspicious of what he did.

Jeb laughed in disbelief. Working at Itex was a family legacy, and he wasn't expecting Ari to digress from that proud tradition. Not to mention that meant early "retirement," a phrase which had completely different meaning at Itex. "What about your job here? Where else would you work?" Ari didn't respond. "Look, son, you've got your future all lined up here. Get on good terms with the Director and you can get anything you want in this city. Just like your old man here."

"Maybe that's not what _I _want," Ari raised his voice.

Jeb looked at the door again. "Well, let's talk about this later. Oh, and there's someone I'd like you to meet."

"Max?" Ari rolled his eyes.

"How'd you know?"

"She's all you talk about. Max this, Max that. How she's so _special._" Ari looked Jeb in the eyes. "You know, if you want to screw around with other peoples' lives, go ahead. But I shouldn't have to be stuck in the middle."

"Excuse me?" Jeb snapped.

"You heard me," Ari said. He then turned around and stomped away.

"What was that about?" Anne asked once Jeb had rejoined the group.

"Nothing. He's such a teenager." Jeb laughed uneasily. Did Ari know about the accident? No. He couldn't. Ari wasn't even home when it happened. How could he know? He couldn't, that's what.

The three of them began their walk down the street to Gloria's Diner, a popular locale in Midtown. While most New Yorkers avoided tourists like the plague, the Whitecoats chose Gloria's specifically because it was a tourist-trap.

It wasn't as if the Director even liked tourists. No, she hated them. Hated everything about them, from their "I Heart New York" shirts to their bulky Nikon DSLR cameras to their Fodor's and Zagat guidebooks. They were like dogs the way they slowly walked through the streets, pointing at everything and squealing, "Look, honey, look over there!" She hated tourists, and yet chose to eat at Gloria's regardless.

The Whitecoats were a particularly paranoid sector of society. The last thing they needed was to develop a sense of comraderie with other people. Therefore, they avoided little neighborhood eateries that might recognize them. They didn't need any "Nice weather we're having today!" or "How about them Yankees?" The last thing the Whitecoats needed was for some nosy deli clerk to start asking questions and learning things they didn't need to be learning. So they stuck to Gloria's, where they could fade into the background and remain anonymous. Gloria's seated at least a few hundred people a day; there was no way they'd remember Jeb, Anne, and the Director.

As Jeb entered the restaurant, he picked up several newspapers from the rack outside the restaurant. The _New York Post_. The _Daily News_. And, of course, the _New York Times. _

"Since when are you so interested in current events?" the Director asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I just like getting different perspectives," he explained defensively. In reality, he wanted to make sure nothing was said about the accident in the newspaper. It had been almost two full days now, and so far, so good. Then again, what if something was said? How would he be able to set foot in the School again afterwards? He'd be ruined...absolutely _ruined_! Even worse, he would incur the wrath of the Director for putting Itex in the public light. If there was anything-just one word-about the incident, everything would go to hell. He was already barely making ends meet on his salary of eighty thousand dollars a year...between rent (fifteen hundred dollars a month), food (three hundred dollars a month) and all other expenses, his income was dwindling. If he lost his job, he'd lose everything. And what about Ari? Jeb had to support his family, after all!

And, oh, wouldn't that asshole Chuck Pearson be happy to hear about Jeb Batchelder's misadventures in the Bronx. Jeb could picture him, smirking, saying "I told you so." Chuck Pearson, with his six-hundred-dollar suits, Starbucks coffee, Cole Haan shoes and stupid marketing company. Chuck Pearson, with his high-powered attorney wife and perfect children. Wouldn't he love to see Jeb Batchelder fall at last? Finally, his competition would be vanquished! The fall of Jeb and Itex would be like the fall of Rome all over again.

He scanned the table of contents in each newspaper, relieved to see nothing remotely related the Bronx accident. No "Evil Doctors Kill Bronx Teenager" or "Jeb Batchelder and Anne Walker: Drivers Gone Wild." Nothing. Zip. Nada.

Jeb couldn't-he wouldn't-let word about the incident get out. He knew Anne wouldn't say anything; she needed the protection just as much as he did. And as for that girl in the Bronx...well, she was the one causing trouble. _She _had approached _them. _Knowing what the Bronx kids were like, Jeb knew they wouldn't want to go to the police for anything. He could be fairly confident that his little secret would remain just that. He knew he couldn't let himself fall through the cracks.

He had already screwed up once before. He refused to let it happen again.


	7. The Informant

**A/N: Okay, after this chapter I am not uploading another one until I get five reviews. I can't write a good story without proper feedback, and I would really appreciate some reviews (: Thanks!**

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><p><strong>Bellevue Medical Center<strong>

**Manhattan**

Detectives Andrew Wilson and Tony Burns exited the hospital elevator, walking into the hallway with an air of confidence that only came from working the New York City streets for at least two decades. The two of them were seasoned veterans of the NYPD system; they knew the ins and outs of how criminals behaved.

Detective Wilson had tried to get a warrant for Jeb Batchelder, the alleged driver of a car which hit a young man by the name of James "Iggy" Griffith, putting him into the coma. However, even though his name was on the registration, Judge Renee Laurent had insisted they needed more evidence. So Wilson and Burns trekked to the Lower East Side from the Bronx to interview Iggy's girlfriend, Monique "Nudge" Jones.

"What do you think of these kids' nicknames?" Tony asked Andy with a snort. "Iggy and Nudge?"

"I don't know. They're from the Bronx. We have to expect the unexpected," Andy said, shrugging. Andy had learned long ago that nothing made sense in the criminal justice system. It was better to accept that fact rather than try and change it. He pushed the door to Iggy's room open. In there was Nudge, a skinny African-American girl in a pink dress, Iggy lying in his bed, and a doctor, a tall man, standing with a clipboard.

"Are you the cops?" Nudge asked. Andy noticed her red eyes. She had obviously been crying.

Tony nodded. "My partner's Detective Wilson and I'm Detective Burns," he introduced himself. "Let's cut to the chase. What do you remember about the accident?"

Nudge thought back to two days ago. It had all been a blur...there was the woman with the needle...then the car...then Iggy was on the ground. She remembered the sirens...the lights...the ambulance-_oh! _It was terrible. She wouldn't hesitate to call it the worst day of her life. She took a deep breath.

"We were crossing the street, you know, like _normal _people, when all of a sudden this car comes out of nowhere and just stops. Some doctor lady got out in a white coat carrying a needle...like those drug addicts, except she didn't look like a drug addict...and then this other white-coat guy pulls her back in and they just completely floor it." She looked at her poor boyfriend and patted his limp hand. "And then, then they hit Iggy."

"How long have you lived in the Bronx?" Detective Burns asked.

"I don't live there. I live in Stuyvesant Town," she explained. "Iggy lives a few blocks away from Union Square. We volunteer there a few times a week for our community service project. We work at a daycare."

Stuyvesant Town..._Stuyvesant Town_! That was where the suspect lived!

Wilson and Burns looked at each other eagerly.

"Do you happen to know a man named Jeb Bachelor?" Wilson asked.

"Batchelder. Not Bachelor," Burns corrected.

"Did you say Jeb Batchelder?" The doctor spoke up for the first time. "I used to work with him back when his friend's company was getting started."

"Oh?" Wilson raised an eyebrow. "What's your name?"

"Dr. Gunther-Hagen," he explained. "First name's Hans. Jeb and I, you know, we were pretty close until he became a sorry sonofabitch." Hans chuckled.

"What happened?" Wilson asked.

"It was right after we all graduated from Yale. He was crazy about this girl-Valencia, I think her name is. He bought into this research company his friend Marian started in order to impress her. Jeb convinced me it was a great idea, he said, and I quote, 'curing diseases will so get us laid.' What a character, huh? So I joined up too. The place was called Itex. Only, it was a total scam. Marian would lie to people-especially poor people-in order to get them to volunteer for experiments. She wouldn't even pay them like she was supposed to. I don't know how she didn't get sued." Hans shook his head. "Anyway, I got out of that scumbag operation pretty quickly, and here I am. I haven't talked to him since. I don't even _want _to know what they're up to these days."

The two detectives made eye contact once again. "Excuse us for a minute," Burns said. They stepped into the hallway.

"What the hell's going on here?" Wilson wondered. "I mean, what's up with this Batchelder guy?"

"Sounds like a lowlife to me," Burns said. Or, as Dr. Gunther-Hagen himself said, a "sorry sonofabitch." "I think we've got grounds for an arrest. Or at the very least, an investigation. You know, Rob's having lunch with Al Rosenberg tomorrow."

"No shit," Wilson said. "The guy from the Times?"

Burns nodded. "The man himself. I think he'd like to know what's going on here."

Wilson smirked. "Twenty years later and we still make a damn good team."

**The High Line**

**Chelsea**

Looking around for that girl Brigid, Fang nonchalantly lit a cigarette. He had taken up smoking once he started at Columbia. It was a habit he had been meaning to kick, however, lighting one up always calmed his nerves. He didn't want to live too long, anyway.

He admired the view from the High Line, an elevated walkway filled with trees, flowers, and other natural elements. Fang didn't like that kind of stuff. He preferred the gritty reality of New York, the dirty streets and concrete buildings. Still, he couldn't help but admire the effort the builders of the High Line had put in. The park was quite beautiful.

"Hey," Brigid said quietly, approaching him.

"Oh. Hey." Fang refocused his attention on the matter at hand. He pulled out his pack of Marlboro's. "Want one?" he offered.

Brigid wrinkled her nose. "I don't _smoke._"

Fang shrugged, returning the pack to his pocket.

"We don't have much time." Brigid looked around nervously. "But this is important. I know where Max is."

"Where is she?" Fang asked impatiently. More importantly, why didn't she go to the police?

"She's at the School, er, Itex. Jeb and the Director are keeping her there."

"Why?" Fang demanded.

Brigid lowered her voice even more. "They're using her for testing. God, I don't even know if I should be telling you this!" Brigid regretted going to meet Fang. She would definitely get in trouble if anyone knew she was there. Why did she have to make such dumb decisions all the time?

Fang blew a puff of smoke into the air. "What kind of testing?" He tried to stay calm, but it was hard to. One one hand-holy _shit. _There was a missing girl being held at a medical center. On the other hand-holy _shit! _Fang could definitely cash in on this new development. And think of how proud Al would be! This could be the big break he was waiting for. The other _Times _reporters, the police, the DA...they'd all love him. He'd be the city's hero.

"New treatments. That's why...that's why Jeb-one of the doctors-had her in the first place," Brigid explained quietly. "But it's not just her. There are others."

"Other what?"

"Kids. Other kids at the School," Brigid said. She bit her lip. "Look, you don't know what those people would do to me if they knew I was telling you this."

"I have to tell someone," Fang insisted. "We're talking about a crime here."

"I _know _that," Brigid said. "Just...don't use my name. Ever. I'm just the informant."

Fang nodded. "Alright. Deal. But Brigid, you've gotta get out of there. It's not the right place for you."

"I know," she said again. "I know. I'm working on it. Take care, okay, Nick?"

"Thanks, you too," Fang said. "By the way, you can call me Fang. And one more thing...tell Max help's on the way."

"Fang. Okay." Brigid giggled. "And will do."

Once she had left, Fang pulled out his iPhone:

_New Text Message_

_From: Nick R. _

_To: Al _

_I have a lead on the Martinez case. _

His phone instantly buzzed with a reply:

_Good job, kid. I knew you could do it. I've got a meeting with the DA tomorrow at Balthazar; meet me there at 2. _

Everything was working out beautifully.

Fang took another drag of his cigarette before walking back towards the exit.

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><p><strong>AN: There you go, a cliffhanger (: Remember, 5 reviews for a speedy update! **

**Thank you and have a nice day. **


	8. Capitalism at its Finest

**A/N: So, I lied about the five reviews thing *blushes* The last chapter didn't properly post, so I'm uploading a new one to compensate (: But still, review please!**

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><p>Balthazar, located in SoHo, was a glitzy restaurant that attracted only New York City's finest. The cost of eating there was seldom less than a hundred dollars a person. Fang was grateful that Al Rosenberg had already offered to pay when he invited Fang to join them for lunch.<p>

Al and three men Fang didn't recognize were already seated in the booth when he arrived. He suddenly felt uncomfortable, as he did in most formal situations. Was he dressed right? Was he late?

"Hey, kid!" Al shouted, grinning. "Don't mind us, we all got here early." Okay. Fang wasn't late. "What are you drinking?"

"I'll have a Diet Coke," he said out of habit. Diet Coke was practically all Fang drank.

"Really? We're celebrating here!" Al said. When the waitress came by, Al said, "Scotch on the rocks. For all of us."

Fang's dad loved scotch, though Fang never touched the stuff. Still-a drink or two couldn't hurt.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Ride. I'm Robert Chu, the Bronx DA," Mr. Chu introduced himself. He pointed to the two men. "That's Detective Burns, and that's Detective Wilson."

"N-nice to meet you too, sir," Fang said with a nod.

"So what's this I hear about a lead?" Al asked. "Are we finding this girl or what?"

Fang nodded. "I think I know where she might be." His heart started pounding. Fang knew-he knew-that dropping the dime on Itex would be like dropping a nuclear bomb. It would set off an uncontrollable chain of events. Then again, what was his choice? Let the poor girl suffer as a test subject? Let a corporation live outside the law? No-wait, hell no. It was his obligation-not even as a journalist, but as a human being, a US citizen-to ensure these Itex creeps would be properly taken care of.

His thoughts returned to Brigid...his self-confessed informant...who seemed so sweet and innocent. He wasn't exactly attracted to her (in true hipster nature, he refused to date other hipsters), but she seemed pretty chill. What in God's name was she doing working in an illegal experimentation facility? He sincerely hoped that she would be spared in the investigation. She didn't deserve to take the fall for those idiots.

"Well?" Mr. Chu raised an eyebrow.

He took a deep breath. "Remember that note I found? I think it's true. I got an anonymous tip from some doctor saying she was kidnapped and was being kept at the Itex facility in Midtown."

"Really!" Al said. "Well, that's a new one."

"We got word on one a' them Itex people the other day," Detective Wilson piped in. "A doctor at Bellevue called him a...what was it..."

"Sorry sonofabitch," the other detective said.

"Right, right...anyway, this guy-Jeb Batchelder-this guy's the main suspect in a hit-and-run," Wilson continued. "Hits a kid volunteering at a Bronx preschool, doesn't even stop. What a fuckin' piece a' shit." He shook his head, disappointed in the state of affairs.

"Well, you can add kidnapping to the list." Fang took a sip of his scotch and began coughing violently, the acidic liquid burning his throat.

"Good stuff, huh, kid?" Al patted him on the back and sipped his own scotch.

"What do they want with her?" Detective Burns asked.

"The tip said they were testing stuff on her."

"Huh," Mr. Chu said. "I thought the Feds cracked down on that. Instead, they leave it to me. Whaddya think about that?"

"Listen, kid, you ever heard of the Coalition to Stop the Madness?" Al asked.

"Uh, no."

"They were at Occupy Wall Street last month," Al explained. "They're an organization against corporate greed and corruption. And guess who's the president?"

"Valencia Martinez!" Detective Wilson exclaimed. "I remember seeing them at OWS. Looked like an interesting motley crew."

"Exactly. And Valencia happens to be Max's mother," Al pointed out, as if it wasn't obvious enough. "They'll shit bricks once they hear about this one. Especially Valencia...she'll burn that lab to the ground once she finds out about her daughter!" He laughed at the thought.

"Now, let's not take it too far," Mr. Chu said. "I'd rather wait and get my hands on them myself."

"What about Max?" Fang was getting a little pissed off that they had clearly forgotten about her-the true victim in this situation. "We don't know what they're doing to her or why-"

"We know why, because they're a bunch a' fuckin' crackpots!" Wilson interrupted, downing the rest of his scotch. "Good Lord above. What'll people come up with next? When I first started working the beat, all I had to deal with was a few robberies, maybe a murder. Now in addition to Bernie Madoff and all that, we've got Itex and their gang of losers."

"But Max-"

"Look, let's forget about Max for a second," Mr. Chu said. "I'm up for re-election in a week, and it's a tough crowd out there. My people, you know, they think I'm working for the Man on Wall Street. Well, far from it! I think if we can take down Itex, this could be the case I need to get those votes."

Al nodded in agreement. "What goes up must come down. It's capitalism at it's finest."

"Let's hold off on the kidnapping story till we get some more evidence," Mr. Chu advised them. "But let's get things rolling. I'm thinking after we find out more about this kidnapping, we'll get some CSM demonstrators over to Itex to show 'em whose boss, then we'll cut 'em down ourselves. And definitely run the hit-and-run story soon. As in, first thing tomorrow morning." He looked at Wilson's seat. He had suddenly disappeared. "Yo! Andy? Andy!"

Wilson walked back to the table, hanging up his phone. "That was the hospital. Our victim's awake. Only-"

Mr. Chu narrowed his eyes. "Great. So it's not a hit-and-run anymore?"

"No, he's awake, except-"

"Except what?"

"Would you just listen, Chu?" Wilson snapped. For all he did for the community, you'd think Mr. Chu of all people would have a little more respect for him. "He's blind, dammit. The kid lost his sight."

Al grinned, patting Fang on the back. "Kid, we've got ourselves a story."


	9. Consequences

After his third straight night of severely limited sleep, Jeb Batchelder walked (more like stumbled) into the Itex building. The guard on duty nodded at him( not a warm nod, or a friendly nod, just a nod, who _looked _at people like that?). The building looked the same-white and sterile-but something felt different. Almost surreal, like he wasn't there. But if Jeb wasn't there, where was he?

"Jeb!" Anne shouted, tapping his shoulder. She looked like Jeb felt-worn out. Anne looked as if all of a Pandora's box of the world's problems had opened and the contents had fallen all on her.

"I'll get the blood test results for you by tonight," he answered automatically.

She shook her head, reaching into her bag for something. "Look at this." In her hands was a newspaper, specifically, the _New York Times, _early-morning edition.

Jeb immediately perked up, scanning the page. There it was, front and center:

_HONOR STUDENT BLINDED IN NEAR FATAL BRONX HIT-AND-RUN; NYPD LAUNCHES "VIGOROUS INVESTIGATION" _

_By Nicholas Ride_

His heart began racing. Jeb flashed back to the day of the crime._ "Who're you? What do you think you're doing?"_ that girl, the pretty one, had asked. She didn't look at all predatory, come to think of it, she looked young and innocent...almost vulnerable.

_She had good reason to be scared...we were trying to kidnap her! _he thought. He continued to read, sickly fascinated in the details of the tale of his demise.

_Earlier in the week, a young man by the name of James "Iggy" Griffith was reportedly hit by a man driving a silver Acura. Fighting back tears, the victim's girlfriend, Monique "Nudge" Jones told the _Times _the details of what happened. __"We were volunteering in the Bronx," she recalled, "you know, for school...It was all going well until we went out for lunch. That's when he was hit." _

_The two teenagers, both juniors at Fiorello H. LaGuardia High School, were walking down Bruckner Boulevard when Monique observed a woman in a white lab coat approaching them carrying a syringe. "I wasn't sure whether she was a druggie or what, but it was kind of creepy," she said. Then, she saw a similarly dressed man pull her back into the car and drive away, striking James. James was in a coma for three days. His eventual awakening was viewed as a miracle; however, James is now blind, according to doctors, who deem his condition as "possibly permanent." _

_Coma. Blind. Possibly permanent. _Those words stuck out in Jeb's mind. He continued reading, his stomach sinking further and further.

_Police officers have launched what Detective Tony Burns calls a "vigorous investigation." The driver has allegedly been identified as Jeb Batchelder, a doctor at Itex Laboratories, located on 389 West Broadway in Manhattan. However, they are reluctant to further investigate Dr. Batchelder, a move which Monique herself called "classist." _

_"If we had been on Park Avenue, do you think Iggy would've gotten hit?" she speculated. "Probably not. But because we were in the Bronx and probably looked like we lived there, people think they can run us over. Literally and figuratively. It's still a classist society. They've got the guy; why not just bring him in?"_

_Despite Monique's protests, Bronx District Attorney Robert Chu insists that justice will be served. "Anybody who commits a crime in my jurisdiction will have to face the consequences for their foolish actions," Chu warned. "Rest assured that Dr. Batchelder and anybody else involved in this incident will be taken care of." _

_If you have any information on the crime, please call-_

Jeb stopped reading there, shakily handing the paper back to Anne. His vision blurred; his head spun.

"This is bad," he said. "Real bad." He bit his lip. "We shoulda told someone, I _knew _we shoulda told someone-"

"Jeb, shut _up. _If we told someone about _that_, we would've had to tell them about...all of it."

Jeb looked at the article again. _"Monique observed a woman in a white lab coat approaching them carrying a syringe._ As well as a _similarly dressed man_. What does that sound like to you?"

"We wouldn't be the first people with syringes in the Bronx," she said. "And as for the lab coats...she was far enough away. We could've been wearing bathrobes for all she knows."

"Bathrobes. Right," Jeb groaned. "That's believable. _Especially since they know I work here."_

The gravity of the situation hit Anne suddenly. They had Jeb; how long until they had Anne too? And that would lead them right to _everyone _at Itex. "Well, _shit,_" she swore.

The two of them were suddenly approached by Dr. Brigid Dwyer, who was wearing skinny jeans, TOMS shoes, and a knitted sweater.

_Could she be any more of a hipster? _Jeb thought, looking at her. Did _she _know? She appeared to be glaring at him. Why? _Why? _

"The Director wants to see you two," she snapped before walking away.

Marian Janssen sat at her desk with a copy of the _New York Times._

_"They are reluctant to further investigate Dr. Batchelder"-yeah, they better be. "Dr. Batchelder and anybody else involved in this incident will be taken care of"-not before I take care of them first. _

She heard them knock on her door. "Come in," she shouted.

Both Jeb and Anne looked awful, in her opinion. Poor Anne-maybe she should've used some foundation. Or blush. Or something. Anything to hide those horrific eye bags. Didn't she realize she was in the company of _other people_?

Neither of them said a word, they just sat down at her desk.

"Soooo?" Marian said. "I take it you went on a little joyride?"

Jeb opened his mouth, then closed it. "There was...an incident," he admitted.

The Director was silent for a minute. "Well-"

"Now you listen," Jeb began, raising his voice. "Who would've known they were a couple of _honor _students? They were out there in the street like a bunch of _vagrants _or something-"

Marian held her hand up. "Jeb, I'm not mad. I just wish you would've told me so we could've cleared this up sooner," she said with a sigh. "You really should've told me."

"How are we supposed to clear this up?" Jeb asked. "By now, all of the city and the Northeast have heard about it."

"Do you remember that account I made at Bank of America?"

"The Rebecca Stuart account?" Back in '03, when Itex was getting big, Marian had created a fake bank account in order to launder the extra profits she was making. That way, if something ever went wrong, Marian wouldn't take the fall-Rebecca Stuart would. Of course, Rebecca Stuart was only a figment of her imagination.

Marian nodded. "I think it's time for good ole Becca to call in a favor with the ADA."

"You can do that?" Anne asked, surprised. Then again, why should she be surprised? It was the Director, after all.

She nodded. "Of course, there's a cost to everything."

Jeb's heart sunk. She had already kidnapped her own daughter. What more did she want?

"I could really use Max's sister, Ella, around here."

"Done," Anne said quickly.

"That's not a good idea," Jeb blurted. "I mean, given what's happened with Max, don't you think-"

"No, I don't," the Director snapped. "You know what'll happen if you get caught. And if it comes down to that, don't think I'll stick around to take the fall for you."

Jeb thought about it-was there anything to think about? He couldn't get caught.

"Yup. Okay," he agreed reluctantly.

_God help me, _Jeb thought._ God help all of us. _


	10. Bound to Lie

The first thing Max asked the Whitecoat who entered her room was, "Where's Angel?"

She wasn't sure why, but she felt a strange need to protect her. Angel was like the little sister she never had-Ella Martinez was 15, she didn't count-the sassy little sister.

"She's fine," the doctor said, attempting to smile. She looked different than all the other Whitecoats with her vintage clothes, wavy hair and obscenely large glasses. She looked like a poster child for the _Village Voice_.

"Probably not, knowing you people," Max retorted. She waited for some sort of response, but she said nothing.

The Whitecoat pulled out a needle and a vial of some sort of liquid. Great, what were they going to do now, inject her with some weird virus?

Suddenly, she put both items down on her cart. "Hey," she whispered. "Did you write that note?"  
>Max's heart began beating faster. She should've known a Whitecoat would find it! Now she was really in trouble.<p>

"What note?" she asked innocently.

"Don't worry, I mean, I'm not mad," she said, shaking her head. "This reporter named Nick, er, Fang Ride found it."

"A _reporter_ found it?" Max asked, shocked.

The Whitecoat nodded. "Yup. He went to the police and now they're starting an investigation. Plus he's running a whole story in the Times about it," she added. Her eyes widened in excitement. "Fang told me to tell you help's on the way. You'll be out of here before long. And so will Angel."

"Her too?"

"All of you," she said. "Please believe me when I say that Itex's days are numbered."

Max suddenly became suspicious. "How would you know all this? Is this some sort of test?" she demanded.

She put her hands up, as if to say, _Search me_. "Listen, Max, I honestly want out of here as much as you guys do. Once Itex falls to the ground, I'm gonna start my own company, not like this creepy place."

"That's great, except..." Max looked her in the eyes. "What makes you think you're not going down with them?"

The Whitecoat shrugged. "I don't know. I can't guarantee I won't get in some sort of trouble. But I'll help turn them in. I'll cooperate with the DA, testify, whatever they want me to do. I mean it." Something about her seemed genuine. If it wasn't for the fact she was a Whitecoat, she could seem almost trustworthy. "Anyway, my point is that we're not all bad people," she said. "Some of us actually have some sense of morality. Hold still," she ordered as she put the needle into Max's arm.

"What's in there?" Max asked.

"It was supposed to be some kind of anesthetic , but I switched it with saline," the Whitecoat whispered. She pulled the needle out. "I'm Brigid, by the way."

"Well, thanks, Brigid," Max said. She felt a strange feeling-something called hope.

Across the hall, Jeb Batchelder sat in his office, making Excel graphs of the latest data. The words from the article played in his head.

_Bruckner Boulevard...woman in a white lab coat...coma for three days...blind._

"Dr. Batchelder," Roland ter Borscht said, loudly opening the door. "There's two men from the police agency," he said in a heavy German accent. "Should I get the Erasers to take care of them?"

Jeb shut his laptop. "No," he said. "I'll talk to them."

This was it...the walk of shame. He couldn't help but feel as if he was heading to his own execution. The beheading of Jeb Batchelder.

_Should I shake hands?_ he wondered as he saw them, two large, tall, muscular men in plainclothes.

Why not? He shook both of their hands.

"I'm Dr. Batchelder," he said.

"Oh, we know," one of the cops said, smiling viciously. It was a smile that reminded Jeb of Chuck Pearson-that asshole. "I'm Detective Wilson, this is Detective Burns. Do you mind talkin' to us?"

"Not at all, sir," he answered.

"We're investigating a car accident in the Bronx," Detective Burns said. "Now, since your name came up when we tracked the license plate number...we're assuming you can help us out. Were you in the Bronx the night of the accident?"

"I don't believe so," Jeb answered. Great, now he was bound to lie.

"Okay. Alrighty then. Does anyone else have access to your car?"

"Just the people in my department at the lab," Jeb said. _Wait! No!_ Why had he said that? Now he screwed everyone at Itex!

"Now we're gettin' somewhere," Detective Wilson said. Jeb detected the tiniest hint of a sneer on his lip. "Where's the car kept?"

"At the garage."

"Alright. Do you mind if we take a look at it?"

"Now?" Jeb asked.

"That would be best," Detective Burns said. "Unless it's some sorta problem?"

"Well...um..." What should he say? The attendant would know he took it out. She knew him by name! But if he said no, it would just make things worse. For the love of God, why did he get himself into such a mess. If he hadn't worked at Itex...

"You do want to cooperate with the investigation, right?" Wilson asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, certainly! It's just, I have this way of doing things, and, well..."

"Okay. Well, how many times do you use the car?"

"I-I don't know..."

"How about during the afternoon? You drive a lot during the afternoon?" Burns pressed.

Jeb felt powerless, cornered. What to do, what to do?

"Hey, we're not gettin' mean here," Wilson reminded him. "I'm sure you're a good guy and didn't have anything to do with the crime. But if you did, we need to know."

"I want a lawyer," Jeb suddenly insisted. "Before we take this further, I need to call my lawyer."

Wilson and Burns looked at each other, both smiling.

"Alright, Doc, that's your right," Burns said. "But why go to that trouble? You, an all-around stand-up guy, don't certainly need a lawyer?"

It was both a question and a threat. Jeb gulped.

Wilson smiled paternalistically. "Like I said, if there's anything I should know..."

"I just feel like this should be handled properly," he said.

The cops shrugged. "Okay, Dr. Batchelder," Burns said with a deep sigh. "We'll see you again then...with your lawyer."

It was a statement as ominous as "I'll see you in court."

He handed Jeb a card. "There's my cell. You change your mind, give me a call. Otherwise, you know, in this city shit hits the fan pretty quickly. And then, there's no going back."

_Oh, I'm already there,_ Jeb thought bitterly.

To the cops, he simply said, "Have a nice day."


	11. Guilty

**Law Offices of Brooks, Gallagher, and McConnell **

**1089 Park Avenue**

The office of defense attorney Helena McConnell was elaborately decorated with ornate furniture and Impressionist paintings. The chair that faced her desk was made of velvet, and despite its appearance it was about as comfortable as sitting on a slab of stone. At least that was Jeb's opinion.

He tried to avoid lawyers whenever possible. To a Whitecoat, lawyers, much like police or reporters, only led to trouble (i.e jail). And who wanted trouble?

"What can I do for you, Dr. Batchelder?" Attorney McConnell said, tapping her Cornell Law School pen on her desk.

"Well, you see..." Jeb laughed, trying to sound lighthearted. "I'm in a bit of a mess right now, and I'm just trying to protect myself."

"Okay," she said, nodding. She drew out the last syllable, making it sound like "okaaaay." "What's the problem?"

He vaguely considered telling her the whole story-experiments and all. He wondered how well that would go over; if attorney-client privilege truly existed. Jeb didn't want to take any chances.

"Car accident," he said. "You can read about it in the _Times._" He pulled out a copy of the infamous newspaper from his briefcase and handed it to her.

As she read the article, the attorney reached into a Starbucks bag and pulled out a cranberry scone. She munched on the scone while intently studying the paper, crumbs falling onto the wrinkled sheets.

Jeb couldn't believe the nerve of her, eating baked goods during _his _free time! _His _meeting with her!

"That's me. I'm the guy they're out to get," he said indignantly.

"Okay," Attorney McConnell said again. _Okaaaay. _"Tell me what happened."

"I was on my lunch break, and my friend-my co-worker-Anne and I decided to drive up to the park to feed the ducks." _There you go, _he thought. Nothing said innocence more than feeding the ducks. "We got into a...a heated discussion...about our favorite music and got sidetracked. Somehow, we ended up in the Bronx, and the rest is history."

"Uh-huh." The lawyer raised an eyebrow. "So you just happened to drive past the park, over the bridge, and into another borough without realizing it? All over _music_?"

"What's wrong with that?" Jeb demanded.

"Nothing. I'm just telling you, it's gonna sound weird to the cops."

"Oh, I've already had a little chat with them," Jeb explained. "They already think I'm guilty, I can tell."

She smiled sympathetically. "Now, now. Even cops believe in 'innocent until proven guilty.' But as far as I can tell, as long as your friend Anne can vouch for the two of you, you shouldn't be in too much trouble. Just remember, be _completely honest._"

Completely honest, huh? So far he had lied to his ex-girlfriend to kidnap his own daughter, and lied to the police about being there in the first place. He remembered Detective Wilson's smirking, smug face. He definitely didn't think Jeb was innocent. Then again, he was far from it.

"So that's it? I'm good?"

"I'd double-check the New York State law, but I honestly can't imagine anything real bad happening. I'd just lay low until the media storm calmed down."

"Alright." Jeb nodded. "Thank you, Ms. McConnell."

**New York Times **

**Offices**

"Kid, you're brilliant!" Al Rosenberg gushed. "What I would've given to have written a front-page article at your age."

"Thanks," Fang said with a cool nod. That was Fang in a nutshell: cool. His music was cool, his clothes were cool, and his attitude was cool.

"I'm not kidding. You're a fucking _genius_," he said. "We're gonna run those Itex people into the ground!"

The sound of a door opening caused Fang to turn around. In the room stood Brigid Dwyer.

"What's up," she said, waving awkwardly.

"That one of the interns?" Al whispered. "One of your classmates?"

Brigid walked over to them. "Hi," she said to Al. "I'm Brigid. I told Fang about Itex, which is, ironically, where I work."

Al nodded, pausing for a second. "So...whaddya know about the Max Martinez situation?"

"Oh, boy. Too much," she admitted. "Basically, this woman who we all call the Director's keeping her there."

Fang shook his head. "We've gotta stop them. What are we waiting for?"

Al looked from Fang to Brigid, then back to Fang. "The DA to give us the go-ahead," he answered.

Brigid looked at Al. "You seriously _don't _want to know what they do to her there. I mean, I try to stop it as much as I can, but I'm only me."

Fang saw her eyes grow watery. _Oh, God, don't cry! Not here! _Fang was terrible with people's emotions, especially in pressured situations.

"I just want everyone to get out of there and I want the Director to go to jail and-"

"It's okay," Fang assured her. "I've got an idea. Tomorrow, we'll make our move. Gather all the files and evidence you can. I'll go undercover as a doctor there and we'll sneak her out of Itex. Then, we go straight for the police station, where we'll tell Mr. Chu, Wilson and Burns everything. That way, we'll have enough evidence to get an arrest warrant."

"What about Chu's whole plan with the Coalition to Stop the Madness?" Al asked.

"They can still do that. But we've gotta get Max out of there," Fang insisted. Forget the DA; forget CSM and Occupy Wall Street; forget Al Rosenberg. He wasn't going to sit around and wait for something even worse to happen.

"It'll be dangerous," Brigid said.

"Don't talk to Fang about danger," Al interjected. "He's reported on murders in Harlem and robberies in the East Village. He know's what's up." Actually, Al couldn't think of a better guy to take down Itex. He was cool and collected enough not to get frazzled, yet strong-willed enough not to take any bullshit.

"Okay then," Brigid said. "Tomorrow, we'll get Max. And after that..."

"We're taking them down," Fang finished.

Al shook his head and chuckled. "You guys are badass," he said. He pulled out his phone and dialed Mr. Chu's number. "Yo, Rob, it's Al. We're gonna go ahead and make the first move on the Itex case..."

"You sure you want to do this?" Brigid whispered, looking nervous. "If we get caught-"

"We_won't _get caught," Fang insisted. "It'll go great. All I can say is, hope you're ready for some action."


	12. The 2 Train to the Bronx

Fang, now under the alias of Dr. Mark Fitzgerald, swiped his fake ID at the front entrance to Itex. Luckily, the guard nodded at him and he and Brigid passed through security without an incident.

"You remember the plan?" Brigid whispered to Fang. Fang nodded. "Okay. Remember, don't talk to _anyone. _Everyone here's unsafe."

The School didn't look too unsafe to Fang. It actually looked just like an ordinary New York City hospital, with a lobby and everything.

"Do you have the files I told you to get?" Fang asked.

She tapped her iPhone. "I downloaded them all last night." The two of them stepped into the elevator.

"Let's do this."

Fang couldn't believe what he was about to do. A little over a week ago, he had just been your average journalism student trying to break into the "biz."

_Well, Mom, look at me now! _he thought. Now he was not only an investigative reporter on the verge of a breaking-news story, but an undercover spy, no less. Here he was, going into what was described as anyone's worst nightmare to rescue some girl he hadn't even met.

The elevator "dinged" on the fourth floor, the doors opening.

Again, nothing out of the ordinary was to be seen. Just rows and rows of closed doors. Then again, it was what went on beyond the closed doors that was the problem.

"Be quiet," Brigid warned as she pulled a gurney out of a storage room. Their plan was to act like they were taking Max to have surgery, then sneak her out the service exit.

Carefully, Brigid pulled out the key to room 471 and unlocked the door.

"Get away from me!" Max shouted. "You told me I wouldn't have to deal with your _stupid _tests anymore-"

"Max, shhh," she ordered, tossing her a hospital gown. "We're getting you out of here."

"What?" Max asked.

"I promised, didn't I?" Brigid smiled. "Oh, this is Fang. He's the reporter. Thank him, not me. The whole plan was his idea."

Wait..._what_? Max was actually getting rescued? She slowly smiled, slipping the gown over her clothes, then kicking off her jeans.

"Here's the plan," Fang explained. "Lie down on the gurney and act like you're sleeping. I'm serious; don't move at all. We'll take you down the service elevator then out the door. When I give you the signal," he gave her the thumbs up, "we're all going to make a run for it. There's a subway station right downstairs. We're gonna take the 2 train to the Bronx."

"What's in the Bronx?" Max asked. "And what about the Erasers?" She shuddered, remembering a particularly painful blow she had taken to the head from an Eraser's nightstick.

"The DA's office," Brigid answered. "Don't worry. The Erasers are scary, but they're not always the brightest bulbs on the tree. I doubt they'd even know which subway to take!" She giggled. "Ready?"

Max nodded and lay down on the gurney. Fang and Brigid wheeled her around to the back of the floor, where the service elevator was. Checking to make sure the coast was clear (better safe than sorry!), they slid her in and headed downstairs.

**The Director's Office**

****As she did most Sunday afternoons, Marian Janssen sat at her desk, looking out the window at the street. So far, everything was normal in New York. People walking their dogs, people with strollers, people with cameras-

She scowled as she saw a touristy-looking couple take a picture of the Itex building. God, she_hated_ tourists.

_What's so goddamn interesting that you have to take a million fucking pictures of it? _she felt like shouting. _What in God's name is so goddamn interesting? _

"Director!" Roland ter Borscht shouted. "Someone's taking zat Max girl down the freight elevator!"

Marian stood up. Another thing she hated besides tourists? People who disobeyed her.

"Well...why...didn't...you...stop...them?" she demanded.

"I just saw in ze control room!" he insisted.

"Page the Erasers. I'll go stop them myself." She took off her high-heeled shoes, replacing them with Urban Outfitters flats.

In Manhattan, even evil doctors couldn't stand to ruin their good shoes.

**Itex Loading Docks**

****"Almost there," Fang whispered to Max as he pulled the gurney towards the door. "You're doing great!"

"Hey!" a female voice shouted. "Just where do you think you're going with her?"

"Oh, you want her?" Fang asked innocuously. "Here you go!" He grabbed Max's hand, pulling her off the gurney right before he smashed it into the Director's side.

"Run!" Brigid shouted. The three of them took off.

At that moment, the Erasers arrived-sadly, a moment too late.

"Get them!" the Director ordered, standing up again despite her injury. "What the hell are you waiting around for? Idiots-I said _get them_!"

Max, Fang, and Brigid dashed down the street and into the subway station. Fang grabbed his MetroCard and swiped the three of them in.

"Come on," Brigid said. "We don't know how long we have until they find us."

Max was suddenly conscious of the fact that Fang was still holding her hand. And also of the fact that she was half-naked in a skimpy hospital gown. She pulled away, blushing slightly.

Fang couldn't help but notice how...adorable she looked. _Stop! _he told himself. _2 train...2 train...where's that damn 2 train? _

__"Over there!" Fang pointed at a sign that said _1, 2 and 3 trains: Uptown and the Bronx. _The three of them ran to the platform, where a train was approaching. Just their luck!

"This is a Bronx-bound 2 express train," they heard an announcer say loudly. "The next stop is 42nd Street, Times Square. Thank you for riding with MTA New York City transit."

"We did it!" Brigid exclaimed, giddy with relief and excitement. "I can't believe we did it!"

Max grinned for the first time since she was kidnapped, looking around the subway car with excitement. The air smelled like stale coffee; the seats were hard and uncomfortable, and one of the windows was broken. But Max might as well have been in the London countryside for all she cared.

She was _free. _


	13. You Tawkin' To Me?

**86th Precinct**

**The Bronx**

Andy Wilson's demeanor wasn't one that Tony Burns would be likely to call excitable. Instead, Wilson had an air of masculine coolness about him. He was tough and unflinching. But that day, there was something different about Wilson.

Something...high-spirited, almost happy.

"So we're standing outside a' his building, and it looks pretty normal, right? Except we're waiting for at least twenty fuckin' minutes before anyone comes to the door, which was all tinted, by the way-"

Wilson recounted the story of his encounter with Jeb Batchelder to Sam Greene, their ADA.

Sam Greene was a thin, tall man of thirty-five years. He had been stuck working in the Bronx since he had gotten out of law school. Like most ADAs, he had been promised a corner office and the riches of the world, but had gotten nothing but government-sponsored lunch and the right to wear slacks on Fridays. He hoped to work somewhere else (Brooklyn or Manhattan, maybe...anywhere, really!) but for now, he was stuck, stuck in the DA's office on the Grand Concourse.

"-and then this guy, some German expat, comes to the door, shouting, 'Vat? Vat do you vant?'" Andy laughed, remembering Roland ter Borscht's unpleasant attitude. "I ask for Jeb Batchelder, and he gives me this look like '_You tawkin' to me?_' So I give him a look like, '_Fuck yeah, I'm tawkin' to you! Are you deaf?'_"

"Then, FINALLY, Jeb comes down, all nervous," Burns continued.

"What did he look like?" Sam asked.

"Tall, blonde, cocky, your average asshole," Burns described. "Anyway, I didn't think he looked like the guy who would do somethin' like that, but he gets all squirrelly with us. The little bitch in him really comes out here. Doesn't even let us see the damn car, and goes off about needin' a lawyer. Now, let me tell ya, he ain't a bad guy. Guy like him, with a kid and all, shouldn't be on the wrong side of the law. It's a damn shame, is what it is."

Wilson snorted. "C'mon, Tony, don't tell me you feel bad for the guy. A jerk like Batchelder oughta be-"

He was interrupted by a banging door on the other side of the room.

A banging door? Were they being robbed? Wilson instinctively reached for his gun.

"Guys!" someone shouted. It was Nicholas "Fang" Ride, that reporter from Balthazar. He was accompanied by a hipster-looking girl in a lab coat and a blonde girl in a hospital gown. All three of them were out of breath.

"Aaaaaayyy!" Wilson shouted, throwing his arms up. "It's the famous Mr. Ride himself! Back from the costume party?" He punched Fang playfully.

"No," Fang said, out of breath. "Remember that note I found? We just saved Max from Itex."

"You're shittin' me," Wilson said. "You went into a high-security lab and somehow snuck her out of there and came all the way up here without getting caught?"

"Well, not exactly." Dr. Hipster said. "The Director found us, but we got out and into the subway before she could catch up to us."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Wilson said. "Who's the Director?"

"She's the CEO of Itex," Hipster explained. "She controls everything that goes on there. She's also the most messed-up person on this Earth."

Wilson and Burns eyed each other. The worst person? Nah. They had dealt with a serial killer who skinned-literally ripped the skin off-his victims. How could a woman who referred to herself in film-industry terms be worse than _that _piece a' shit?

"She's seriously evil," Hipster insisted. "She got Jeb to kidnap Max!"

Max nodded, narrowing her eyes in resentment. "He just grabbed me off the street," she said.

"Wait, Jeb Batchelder Jeb?" Burns asked.

Hipster nodded. "It's sad, really. He could be a good guy except...you know."

"You know, we could really smoke out this guy," Wilson said. "He ain't got the heart for this stuff. We threaten him with life at Rikers, he'll be begging for a plea. I'm sure he won't hesitate to rat out his friends." He looked the hipster up and down. "Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Brigid," Brigid said. "I work at Itex too...I mean, I didn't _do _anything..."

"You know, in the eyes of some other cops, you might be an accomplice," Burns said softly. "But hey, you ain't got the heart for this stuff either. You help us, you'll walk."

Brigid nodded. "Seriously, I'll do anything to help."

"Alright. So, first order of business. Let's get some a' those Coalition to Stop the Madness demonstraters over there first thing tomorrow. Chu'll want NY1, CNN, NBC...all those guys. You know what they've been sayin' about Chu supporting the one percent," Wilson continued. An idea dawned on him. "Max, you good at public speaking."

"I'm _not _going back there," Max blurted.

"C'mon. We'll be there the whole time, it'll be on live TV. I just want you to tell them what Itex did and get everyone fired up," he insisted.

"Are you sure it's safe?"

"I promise." Wilson shrugged. "What're those sickos gonna do with all the cops around? Going public will-"

"You sure this is smart?" Burns asked. "Can't we just run an article?"

"_As I was saying, _going public'll scare those people. You saw what happened with Jeb. Plus, you know what Chu'll say."

"Chu'll want the whole Occupy Wall Street crew down there!" Burns exclaimed. "It'll be...Occupy Itex."

"As long as we've got cops there, it'll be fine. But we'll need them everywhere with what these people are like," Brigid insisted.

"Fang, you run the article tomorrow morning," Wilson ordered. "Let's get things going here. These people fucked with the wrong precinct."


	14. Under Arrest

Anne Walker's office at the School was small, yet comfortable. Her walls were painted a deep lavender, and instead of a desk, she had a group of comfortable chairs in a circle around a coffee table. Even the coffee table was littered casually with medical books.

Jeb guessed she was trying to bring a feeling of legitimacy to the School. But right now, it all felt like a fraud. His whole life felt fake.

Anne sat next to Jeb on the loveseat, holding a piece of paper. "You know, I'm really curious about this girl Angel. She's got great perception. I was monitoring her brain activity last week..."

He tuned her out, looking out the window. How long would it take? How long until he was caught? A day? A week? A year? He almost hoped the police would get it over with, just so the pit in his stomach would hopefully go away.

All of a sudden, the door burst open.

"We're in a meeting," Anne snapped. Jeb turned to see who it was. The Director, looking very unlike herself with messy hair and..._are those flat shoes? _Jeb wondered incredulously.

"Max is gone," she said. "She's _gone._"

Jeb stood up. "She's _dead_? The hell? I sent around that memo saying we wanted her _alive_. Those damn fools-"

"She escaped!" the Director yelled.

Jeb's first thought wasn't his projects, which would have to go unfinished without her. Or the School itself. No, he thought of who she would tell first.

_She's not going to keep quiet, _Jeb thought. _Who would? _

"I know who let her go. It was Brigid and some other doctor," the Director continued. "I _saw _them, I called for the Erasers, but they took off into the subway station."

"So that means she could be anywhere in the five boroughs," Anne said. The Director nodded.

"I want to see her little friend Angel," the Director said. "And I want to send every Eraser out looking for them. We _need _Max back here. And as for Brigid and her friend...we can't let something like that go around here." A smile spread across her face-a _smile! _What a woman-smiling while Jeb's life was about to crumble into pieces.

Jeb's phone rang. "Excuse me," he said, exiting the room.

"Dr. Batchelder, it's Attorney McConnell," Helena McConnell said. "Listen very carefully to what I'm about to tell you, and do not, I repeat _do not _freak out."

Jeb gulped.

"I just got off the phone with Mr. Chu, the Bronx DA, and he's not happy one bit about this situation."

"I gathered from his _Times _interview."

"He wants to press charges for the hit-and-run, and the parents of James-the kid who was hit-agree," Helena explained. Her voice took on a new tone, something more...angry. "Not only that, now a girl is accusing you of kidnapping and experimenting on her. She blamed your whole company! Jeb, I hope to God this isn't true!"

"Um. Well," Jeb began awkwardly.

"You don't have to answer me right now," Helena said sharply. "But they're going to place you under arrest. The DA wanted to arrest you in your office, you know, for his whole publicity stunt-which I think is bullshit-his whole campaign against the, quote, 'one percent.' But he said I could bring you in myself."

_Bring me in. _"Bring me in where?"

"To the Bronx DA's office," she clarified.

_Bring me in to the Bronx. Like a lamb to slaughter. _

"Now, like I said, this whole Chu thing's ridiculous," Helena continued. "He's just an attention whore. But they've got witnesses and the press on their side. So what I need for you to do between now and tomorrow is keep your head up. Don't listen to-hell, don't even _read _the news. It's all gonna be lies. And for Heaven's sake, tell people only the bare minimum! Anything you say can be used against you."

He thought of that line cops from movies always used. _You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. _Where would he be sent? Rikers? He shuddered at the thought of wearing an orange jumpsuit and eating lunch with serial killers and child molesters.

"Thanks," he croaked, hanging up his iPhone.

"You can't just walk out like that," the Director insisted as Jeb came back in. "We have _things _to discuss! This is _important._"

"Look, your little plan's not gonna work," Jeb snapped at her.

"Excuse me?"

"Remember the hit-and-run? I'm getting charged for that. And now Max went to the police and told them about us."

A silence fell across the room.

_Wake up, Dr. Marian Janssen! Our days are numbered, _Jeb thought resentfully. _Did you really think this type of business could survive in this city? In this world? Get off your high horse already! Midtown Manhattan isn't yours anymore. None of the city is. A two-hundred square-foot cell at Rikers Island Correctional Facility, that's the only thing you'll soon be able to call yours! Do you know who owns this city? _Do _you? Not us! You poor, unfortunate soul, Maxine Martinez, the press, and the police own this city, that's who. We don't control them, no, on the contrary. They control us, and little Max has got us right where she wants us, in the palm of her hand, ready to squeeze the life out of us. They're going to get us, you see, they're going to get us and rip us apart, going from top to bottom. And who's at the top? You, my friend, so pack your bags! Your time-our time-is over._

"So much for calling in your favor with your fake bank account," Jeb scoffed. "Turns out the only real power you have exists within the four walls of this building. Outside of here, in the real world, what does your position get you? Nothing!"

"I tried!" the Director snapped. "I'm _sorry, _I thought lowly Bronx ADA's could use the cash. Turns out a few bucks doesn't take you as far as it did in '05."

"It's not even about the money!" Jeb insisted. "If we hadn't gone after Max and her family in the first place-"

"I didn't _tell_ you to go to the Bronx. I didn't _tell_ you to get into an accident. And I definitely didn't tell you to get a scathing article printed about you in the _New York Times_!"

"You know what? Forget it," Jeb said. "You two do your experiments. I've gotta get a defense together. I'm done here."

**Stuyvesant Town**

**Building 3**

"Hey, Jeb!" Chuck Pearson called to him from down the hallway in an obnoxious tone. "Nice article you've got in the paper. I'm sure a mugshot'll really help you get with the ladies. Once they catch you, that is. Unless you think you're getting off scot-free?"

"Chuck, save it," Jeb snapped as he unlocked his door. "I get enough crap from the press. I don't need it from _you_."

"Awww, is Jeb mad?" Now Chuck was using an annoying baby voice. "Does somebody need his naptime? Maybe a bottle?"

Jeb ignored him and slammed his apartment door.

"Ari?" he shouted. His son had to still love him, right? Wasn't all that stuff about blood being thicker than water true?

"Ari!" he yelled again. Jeb's eyes flew to a piece of paper on the kitchen table.

_Dad, _

_Going to live with Mom. This life isn't for me. Good luck with the police. _

_-Ari_

Next to it was the front page of that day's _New York Times. _Jeb couldn't resist...he looked at it.

_MISSING GIRL FOUND ONE AND A HALF MONTHS LATER, ACCUSES HIT-AND RUN SUSPECT OF KIDNAPPING_

_By Nicholas Ride_

The situation had definitely crossed the line from "shitty" to "out of control."


	15. The Victim and the Reporter

Max Martinez found it slightly ironic that she had just escaped a hospital-like setting, and was now stuck in _another _hospital. Specifically, Bellevue Medical Center on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. There she sat, stuck in a hospital bed, with doctors (real ones, not Whitecoats), nurses, cops, reporters, and her mother Valencia surrounding her.

"I can't believe it," Valencia said, shaking her head. "I just can't believe what that man did to you."

"It's not your fault," Max assured her.

"No, it-" She stopped herself and shook her head again. "I _can't believe it._"

"Feel bad for Batchelder still?" Detective Wilson asked Detective Burns.

Burns scowled. "You know, a hit-and-run can be justified somewhat. This fuckin' can't. Piece a' shit."

"Chu already knows," Wilson said, looking down at his phone. "He wants those demonstrators there ay-sap. We're already behind schedule on this CSM thing. Val, I'm sure you're on that?"

Valencia sighed. "Can't that wait? My _daughter_ was _kidnapped_. Honestly, I don't care whether this Mr. Chu guy gets elected or not!"

Dr. Gunther-Hagen, Max's doctor, walked into the room. "Good news, everyone," he announced. "All the tests came back normal. Blood test, CAT scan...the whole lot. "

Max breathed in relief. After, of course, calling up the DA, the cops had rushed her to the hospital to make sure she wasn't sick or injured in some way from the horrible tests she had gone through at the School. Although Max suspected they had made a bigger deal of it than they could have, making sure the press was there when she arrived and running the article about her rescue the first thing that morning.

"What'll Chu think about that?" Wilson asked.

"What _difference _does it make?" Burns snapped.

"Well, you know, he'll want the story to be as big as the James Griffith-sorry, Iggy-thing," Wilson mentioned. "If she's perfectly fine, even after all that..."

"If she's perfectly fine, it's a goddamn miracle, is what it is. We should thank God she's not _dead!_" Burns said.

"I can't believe what you're all saying!" Valencia said, standing up. "Are you hoping Max would be hurt?"

"We're not, and Mr. Chu's definitely not. But what we're saying is, in order to really nail these people-"

"You're all ridiculous! It's all about that damn political nonsense. Go to hell!"

Dr. Gunther-Hagen quietly observed the exchange. "Why don't we give Max some time to rest up?" he suggested. He led everyone out of the room.

Max closed her eyes and lay back against the fluffy pillows. The quiet was nice. At the School, the quiet was the worst thing because you wouldn't know what to expect. But here, silence was a gift. A momentary reprieve from the flashing cameras and shouting New York cops. And the questions...all the questions could drive anybody insane, let alone a sixteen-year old kidnapping victim.

There were questions from the cops:

_Can you describe the man who kidnapped you? _

_What were some of the experiments you had to undergo? _

_Can you name any other Whiteco-doctors who experimented on you?_

Questions from the press:

_Max! Are you suing? _

_When are you going back to school? _

_What are you wearing to court? _

Even questions from her friends and family:

_Oh my God! What happened? _

_Are you alright? _

_What _is _the School, anyway?_

The only person (a reporter, no less!) who had shown her any shred of respect for her privacy was Fang, the cute journalism student from Columbia. And at that moment, Fang entered her room, a bottle of Arnold Palmer iced tea and a copy of that day's _Times _in his arms.

"Hey," he said, smiling. "I come bearing gifts. Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"The usual," Max said. "What's the latest in the _Times_?"

"Read it for yourself," Fang said, tossing her the paper. "Another article courtesy of yours truly."

_MISSING GIRL FOUND ONE AND A HALF MONTHS LATER, ACCUSES HIT-AND-RUN SUSPECT OF KIDNAPPING_

_By Nicholas Ride_

_A girl by the name of Maxine Martinez, who was reported missing by her mother Valencia after failing to return home from the movies one night, has been found and is in treatment at Bellevue Hospital. She has accused Jeb Batchelder, the man who was allegedly responsible for the car accident that blinded James Griffith last week, of kidnapping her to illegally experiment on her. She also reported that there were other children and teenagers being held at the facility as well, a claim which is currently being investigated. _

_In a statement given to press from the hospital, she reported being taken to Itex Laboratories, a medical experimentation facility located two blocks away from Herald Square in Manhattan. She described the atrocities she was subjected to by Dr. Batchelder and other doctors, nicknamed "Whitecoats," at the medical center. Shaken, her mother also told press that she was "extremely relieved" to have her daughter safely returned._

_NYPD detectives Andrew Wilson and Tony Burns plan to fully investigate this accusation, as well as charge Dr. Batchelder with both the hit-and-run and the kidnapping offenses. They hope to gain full knowledge of all the perpetrators involved in the Martinez case as soon as possible. Said Wilson, "We know they're in the wind, and we gotta catch them before they keep doing this. If this is true, they're all lowlifes." He also said that anybody involved in these crimes against Max and others will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. _

_"Don't think you won't get caught, because you will," Wilson warned. He urges anyone with information to come forward immediately._

"Nice article," Max said. "So...judging by the media circus outside...I guess I'd better start getting used to the attention."

Honestly, she wasn't sure whether she liked it or not."

"Guess so." Fang smiled. "Hey, it could be worse. You could still be there. At least this way-at least this way-everyone'll know. You know the whole city's gonna be pissed when they hear about it."

They sat in silence for a minute. Just the two of them, the victim and the reporter.

"What's the deal with the DA?" Max asked.

"Oh." Fang waved his hand dismissively. "He's trying to get re-elected. You know how it is in the Bronx. All his poor constituents think he's too supportive of big business."

"So he wants to destroy Itex...all to get his votes?" Max asked.

"Pretty much. I mean, he still cares about you, Iggy and the other kids at Itex, he really does," Fang insisted. "He's just got a funny way of showing it."

Another awkward silence. Then, "What happened to you there, anyway?" Fang asked, sitting on the edge of her bed.

Max laughed. One had to maintain a sense of irony when dealing with this type of stuff, these types of people.

"Getting poked with a million needles a day wasn't exactly my cup of tea," she said. "But hey, I survived, and that's sadly more than I can say for a lot of other kids there. You know, one day, I saw a kid, he couldn't have been more than ten, he just collapsed in the middle of the hallway and started coughing up blood, and you know what's most fucked up? Nobody did anything. One doctor was like, 'Get it out of here.' _It_. We were worthless to them."

"That's disgusting," Fang said. "I don't think I've ever heard of anything that horrible."

"But...I got out. Thanks to you. Now people know, and we're gonna stop them," Max reminded him.

Fang nodded. "Forget all this political crap. The law is the law. These guys are going _down, _no matter what." He leaned closer to her. "And you know what else? We're gonna keep you safe, Max. Anyone tries to hurt you, I'll kick their ass."

"I know what it means, opening up about this," Max said. "It's gonna be rough."

"But you know what?" Fang smiled. "It'll be worth it. You'll see. Things are changing around here, for the better."


	16. Occupy Itex

Sam Greene, Detectives Wilson and Burns, and Max and Valencia Martinez arrived at 389 West Broadway sometime after one o'clock. The building was tall and nondescript, yet had a creepy feeling to it. All of the doors and windows were tinted, like they were hiding something.

_Good luck trying to keep us out! _Wilson thought with a smirk. He could see right through the tinted windows of Itex.

"Hey!" a male voice shouted.

Wilson turned to face a young African-American man carrying two picket signs. _Justice 4 Iggy, _one sign read. The other read _Occupy Itex. _

"How's it going?" Wilson asked.

"Good, as of now," he said. "The name's Tim Jones. I'm Nudge's brother. You know when the whole thing's supposed to start?"

"Around one-fifteen." Wilson checked his watch. "Once Mr. Chu and the rest of CSM get here."

Max took a look around her. People were beginning to arrive, all carrying picket signs or banners. One sign said _LaGuardia High United Against Itex. _Another said _Free the children! _A third sign said, in bold letters, _Coalition to Stop the Madness Says...Elect Chu! End Greed & Corruption!_

"You don't have to do this," Max's mom reminded her. "We've got enough demonstrators on our own, we don't need..."

"You tryin' to talk her out of this?" Wilson asked, eyeing her.

"No! I'm just making sure she's making _her own decision_."

"I am," Max insisted. "I'll do it."

"Okay," Valencia said, rubbing Max's back.

Getting out of the _New York Times_ van, Fang stepped out, lurching dangerously forward. After spending time with Max at the hospital, he had gone downtown to the East Village and hit up a dive bar with some guy named Jason who had read his articles and offered to buy him a beer or two. Well, a beer or two turned into three or four, and he was regretting his decision.

He pulled out his Nikon and snapped two pictures, a close-up of the Itex sign, and a wide-angle shot of all of the protesters.

"Kid, this is gonna be the biggest story since bin Laden was killed," Al Rosenberg said, pulling out his own camera. "Hope you're in the mood for a little excitement." He winked.

_I had a bit too much excitement last night, _he thought. Oh, well. He'd adjust to the journalist's life sooner or later.

"Max Martinez! Fang Ride!" a man shouted. It was Mr. Chu, who had just arrived on the scene. "The damsel in distress and her night in shining armor." He grinned, looking a bit too happy for a district attorney who had just discovered a major criminal organization.

"I wouldn't put it that way," Fang said, watching a blush spread across Max's face. "She's the one leading this thing, not me."

"Speaking of..." Mr. Chu reached into a Walgreen's bag and pulled out a megaphone with Mr. Chu's face and _CHU 2011_ stamped on it. "Let's get this thing started, shall we?"

Max and Mr. Chu walked to the front of the crowd. She instantly froze up. _Get them fired up. _How?

"What are you waitin' for?" Wilson said, nudging her.

Max looked around. Finally, she turned on the megaphone. "What's up, New York?" she shouted. Everyone stopped talking and looked at her. The news reporters-people from New York One, CNN, and NBC-turned on their cameras.

"I said, WHAT'S UP, NEW YORK?"

The crowd cheered in response. Max smiled. She could do this. She could. Before she could say anything else, Mr. Chu grabbed the megaphone from her.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this lovely young lady was kidnapped by some _degenerate-_and taken here against her will? What did they want with her, you wonder? _They used her as a test subject._"

The protesters booed.

"Not only that, but a couple of doctors here were also responsible for running over poor James Griffith, a teenager with a _very _bright future as a member of the New York City community. James is now BLIND, and still in rehabilitation. His friends and family are _devastated. _Both crimes are examples of what happens when people _refuse to obey the law._ And Itex is responsible for both incidents."

More booing.

"If you think that's as sick and horrible as I do...if you think big businesses shouldn't be able to circumvent the law...if you think white-collar, no white-_coat _crime, is just as bad as any crime that goes on in the city...then _we need to take charge and take this city back!_"

"Yeah, Chu!" someone shouted.

He handed the megaphone back to Max, who shouted, "Whadda we want?"

"JUSTICE!" the crowd shouted back.

"When do we want it?"

"NOW!"

**Williamsburg, NY**

Bryce Marsden, Brigid Dwyer's boyfriend, sat on Brigid's couch, flipping through the channels.

"Hey, Bridge," he called. "Look!"

Brigid adjusted her scarf and walked into the living room.

"There's all these protesters over at Itex."

She looked at the caption that appeared on screen-

_Demonstrators __protest Itex injustices. _

"Don't you work there?"

"Not anymore," Brigid said, with a triumphant grin. They were done. People knew what had happened. And they weren't taking it lying down.

They were chanting something.

_"Whadda we want?"_

_"JUSTICE!" _

_"When do we want it?" _

_"NOW!" _

"They're pretty pissed," Bryce observed. He then shut off the TV. "You didn't tell me you lost your job."

"I quit," Brigid said, shrugging.

"Good. If people are freaking out over Itex, you don't wanna be associated with them." Bryce cracked open a Coke. "You comin' to my show tonight?"

In addition to being an independent researcher for the NYU hospital, Bryce was the frontman of the Chromosomes, an indie band which was popular among the Brooklyn hipster population.

"Of course, babe." Brigid kissed him on the cheek.

A banging noise startled both of them.

"What's that?" Bryce asked, walking into the foyer. In the hallway stood two men in black suits holding handguns.

"Where's Brigid?" one of them yelled. He waved the gun threateningly.

"Get the fuck out!" Bryce shouted, unplugging Brigid's lamp and hurling it at them. The other man fired his gun, hitting Bryce in the arm. "Ow! Shit!"

"Bryce!" Brigid screamed.

A new figure stood in the doorway, a tall man. "HEY!" he shouted. "Leave them alone! I've got the cops on the phone right now!"

The two men looked at each other, then dashed down the hallway.

"You better run!" the man said to their retreating backs.. He turned to Brigid and Bryce. "We gotta get your friend to the hospital."

"Trust us, we're doctors," Bryce said, smiling faintly. Brigid had to admire his ability to joke, even after he'd just been shot.

"Come on," Brigid urged him, pulling him up.

"You guys are lucky," the stranger said again, shaking his head. "We've never had a robbery in this building before."

"Yeah, what the hell was that?" Bryce wondered out loud.

Brigid had an idea. _Erasers. _

They were coming back for her.


	17. I Can't Let Them Get To Me

**Stratford Apartments**

** Upper West Side, NY**

That night, Max woke up at one AM. She sat up quickly, breathing hard.

She had _that_ dream again, the dream she'd been having for weeks now.

It was the one where the School had implanted wings into her, the Erasers were werewolf-like creatures, and Max kept trying to fly away, to no avail. The dream had the same ending every time: the Erasers caught her and ate her alive.

Max looked around her room nervously. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Her bed was still her bed, her movie posters were all hung up, and her books were all in order. She was in her apartment, not the School.

This was the third time since her return that she had the dream. But this time, she reached for her new phone and dialed Fang's number. Max wasn't sure what it was about Fang that she liked so much, but she had a feeling he would understand what she was going through.

"Hello?" Fang answered. To Max's surprise, he didn't sound sleepy at all.

"Did I wake you up?" Max asked.

Fang laughed. "No. I'm not one for sleeping," he said. "I'm working on an article. My boss just emailed me; apparently there was an armed robbery in Brooklyn right after the protest."

"That sucks," Max said. She was sure there was something else she could say, but _that sucks _was the only thing she could think of at that moment.

"Anyway, what's up?"

"I-I couldn't sleep," she admitted. "I had a terrible dream." Max described the dream to Fang.

"I'm so sorry," Fang said in a serious tone. "That sounds terrifying."

"It was. It started after I got kidnapped and I've been having the _same dream _ever since," Max said. "Whatever. It's probably nothing."

"You know, I know the public expects you to be this big, tough girl. But it's okay not to be Superwoman all the time. Hey, I don't blame you. Those assholes over at the School did some really bad shit."

"I know. But I can't let them get to me," Max insisted. "Unless they-the Whitecoats-live under rocks, they definitely have seen me on TV and in the papers. And all my friends have seen too...I just have to be strong. If not for me, then for the city."

"There's a lot to be said for being strong," Fang said. "Still, you know, it's okay to need help sometimes too."

"I'm fine," Max said quickly. She suddenly wanted to forget about the whole thing and go back to sleep.

"If you're not, you can always talk to me," Fang promised. "I promise not to print it in the _Times._"

Max laughed. "That's okay. Hey, it's probably better that there's this much publicity about it. The more people who know about what happened, the worse off the Whitecoats'll be in the end."

"That's a good point. Look, I've gotta finish this article," Fang said. "And maybe try to get some sleep. But if you want, maybe we can grab some coffee tomorrow morning?"

"That'd be great," Max said, smiling to herself. "It's a..." She didn't want to say the word "date." So instead, she said, "It's a plan."

**Stuyvesant Town**

Across the city, Jeb Batchelder tossed and turned. His bed suddenly felt more uncomfortable; his apartment felt more confining, almost like...a jail.

_Jail. Jail. __I'm going to jail_, he thought woefully. He looked at the clock. It was only one AM. His life still belonged to him for now. He still had a few hours before he would be taken into custody by the state of New York.

Helena McConnell had explained the whole thing to him. The two detectives, Wilson and Burns, would pick him up first thing that morning. They would bring him up to the Bronx to be booked and processed-two words which sounded a lot more menacing now that Jeb would have to go through them.

He had seen Law and Order before. He knew he'd get shoved into some...holding cell with other people...other criminals.

A cell like they used to use to lock kids up at the School.

_Karma, you fucking got me!_ Jeb thought bitterly. _Are you happy now? What goes around really does come around._

Helena had promised him that it wouldn't be as bad as he saw on TV. Helena had told him to dress normally, as if he was going out for a day on the town instead of being arrested. _Not too nice, though, _she had warned him. _Those cells aren't the best of places. And leave the lab coat behind. We don't want this whole "Whitecoat" thing to go too far. _

They wouldn't even have to handcuff him, and he'd be first through the booking station. Still, even the promise of special treatment didn't relieve him of any anxiety.

Jeb hadn't dared go back to Itex in the past two days, given all the protesting that was going on. He would have to wait, wait for everything to calm down. Which it would, Helena assured him.

The thought popped into his head once again.

_I'm going to jail-as the man who not only blinded an honor student in a car accident but kidnapped a sixteen-year old girl._

He was no longer the respected Dr. Batchelder. Now, he was the scum of society. The lowest of the low. The bottom of the barrel. He was sure everybody hated him now. He could've sworn the cashier at his local CVS had given him a dirty look when he went to buy some dish soap-_dish soap! _What was wrong with that? So much for innocent until proven guilty. In his case, it felt more like guilty until proven innocent...and then, still guilty.

Around six AM, he gave up on the idea of sleep altogether. With the sun rising over the skyscrapers of Manhattan, Jeb got out of bed and prepared to head to his doom.


	18. This Won't Hurt a Bit

**The School**

Marian Janssen didn't like strong emotions all that much. Anger, sadness, even happiness-they were all for the _weak, _which she was definitely not. Except for that moment. On that moment, she was absolutely furious. Those protesters, standing outside of _her _company, daring to taunt them like that! Especially their insolent cheer.

_Whadda we want? JUSTICE!_

_When do we want it? NOW!_

_I'll show them justice, _she thought angrily. Actually, her anger was less directed at the protesters but Subjects 35 (Max) and 87 (Angel). It had been the two of them working together, she _knew _it! Even though Angel was still at the School, she had to be in on it. She had to. _Everyone _was in on it-the press and the police especially-everyone knew what was going on, except her! And this was her territory.

She stared at the latest newspaper article targeting Itex. _DOCTORS SHOT IN ARMED ROBBERY, BLAME SUSPICIOUS COMPANY, _it was titled. It was authored by Nicholas Ride, the same idiot who wrote the other two articles. Damn Nicholas Ride, he was going to ruin Marian. And for what? A measly pay raise? Extra coffee? Marian was actually making a difference in the world.

Marian would have to deal with that Subject 87. She had gotten reports from other doctors that she had been disorderly, knocking over equipment and yelling at everyone. What the_hell _was wrong with her?

And 35, of all people, had to be the one to escape and run to the police. She had wanted her at the School for a good reason: Jeb had agreed, back in the day, to have her _for that reason. _Marian didn't like when people went back on their agreements.

She walked down the hallway, opening the door to what was formerly Max's room. Angel was sitting on her bed, reading some book.

"Why, hello there," the Director greeted her, smiling in a sinister way only she could.

Angel looked up, then went back to her book.

"Eighty-_seven_," she pronounced.

"It's actually Angel," Angel snapped. "But I'll let it go."

"Sweetie, you don't know me?" she asked. "I'm the Director."

Angel's face went pale. Good.

"I just want to know one thing," she said calmly. "Why isn't Max here?" The Director reached for a strand of Angel's hair. "You know, you have such pretty hair."

Angel jerked away. "I don't know," she said. She was telling the truth. Really, she tried not to think about it. She had learned quickly that in the School, people would often disappear and not return. Angel didn't know what happened to them, but she was sure it wasn't good.

People like Jeb, the only semi-decent Whitecoat there. He used to bring her books and candy, but hadn't come by in a few days. Angel desperately wished for him to come back. He was the only one who treated her well.

"You sure about that?" the Director asked. Still smiling, she pulled a syringe and a vial out of her pocket.

Angel froze. Not another test. The tests were the worst. She had already endured so much, especially lately. Since Jeb's leave, the other doctors had become a lot more harsh, for example, forcing her to run for _three hours straight _on a treadmill before drugging her with massive doses of painkillers. Angel's personal opinion is that many of their tests were driven by some sick curiosity rather than actual medical purposes.

"Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit. As long as you play nice," she said. "Then again, I know that's not your strong suit."

"What do you _want _from me?" Angel wailed. "I mean, _who do you think you are_?"

The Director was silent for a minute. She hadn't been expecting that. A sassy "fuck off," maybe, but something like that? She was definitely taken aback.

"_I know who I am,_" she replied slowly. "But I don't think you do, _eighty-seven._" She drew the liquid into the syringe. Angel chose that moment to jump up and run to the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" the Director asked in the same calm voice. "I thought I told you to play nice. Now tell me, _what happened to Max?_"

"I don't know!" Angel shouted. She was beginning to tear up now.

"Yes, you do!" Marian shouted back. _Keep it together, _she told herself. _She's just a lab rat. _She stuck the needle in Angel's arm, watching as she fell to the ground.

"Told you to be nice," she said, smiling again.

Angel felt herself slipping into unconsciousness. "Go to hell," she whispered before her eyes shut.

Marian's iPhone beeped with a notification. _Meeting w/investors, _the screen read.

She calmly stood up, leaving Angel on the ground. After all, she had to take care of business.

**Starbucks**

"Thanks for meeting me here," Max said to Fang.

"No problem!" Fang smiled. He was beginning to really like this Max girl. And why not? She was funny, nice, and didn't take any crap from the Whitecoats.

The term "Whitecoat" was also something that Fang was beginning to like. He had printed the term in one of his articles, and it was catching on around the city. The hashtag "#StoptheWhitecoats" on Twitter had grown in popularity, and he had heard several New York subway patrons use the expression in reference to the now-infamous group of doctors.

The word about Itex was spreading like wildfire. And Fang didn't even have to light the match; Jeb Batchelder had done that when he went into the Bronx that day.

"So listen," Max said, leaning in. Fang could smell her strawberry shampoo. "I know who was in the car with Jeb that day."

"Seriously?" Fang asked eagerly.

Max nodded. "Her name's Dr. Walker-Anne Walker. She came in to take me to testing one day and I overheard her talking about going out with Jeb. They were looking for more kids."

"No way," Fang said. "I can't believe them."

Max sighed. "I can't either. I still can't. But yeah, she was with him the whole time."

"Thanks," Fang said. "You know, you've really been helpful with this whole thing. It can't be easy."

She shook her head. "It's not. But, you know, what am I gonna do? I can't keep it to myself. Think of everyone else."

Max thought of Angel-poor thing. She was only twelve-to be kidnapped at twelve was a whole different thing than to be kidnapped at sixteen. Sure, it was all awful, but she was just a kid! Didn't the Whitecoats know any boundaries, any at all?

Fang whipped out his phone and shot off a text to Al.

_Nick: Found Batchelder's mystery passenger. _

_Al: No kidding! Who is she? _

_Nick: Anne Walker, another dr. at Itex. Max M. says she was going with him to kidnap more kids. _

_Al: Well, well, well. Looks like we've got a good game of cat and mouse going. I'll pass the word along to the cops. _

Satisfied, Fang tucked his phone back into his pocket. "Thanks to you, these guys are done," he blurted.

"How much trouble will they get into?" Max wondered.

"A lot. Maybe ten years, if they're lucky. No parole," Fang guessed. Surely any judge would throw the book at those types of people.

He viewed the situation as a boiling pot of water, ready to flow over the sides of the pot at any second. Well, Fang and Max were about to turn up the heat.


	19. It's Not Fair

Jeb Batchelder stepped outside his apartment, where Helena McConnell, Andy Wilson, and Tony Burns were waiting for him. Helena smiled grimly.

"How's it going?" she asked him.

"Same old, same old. You know," Jeb said. He looked at the two detectives.

"I talked to Greene, the ADA. He promised to get you through there as fast as possible. Fuckin' Mr. Chu, you know, he's gotta do this. It's not right, it's not fair, but it's how it has to be," Helena said.

He nodded. Fuckin' Mr. Chu was right.

Wilson sauntered over to him with the same casual smugness he possessed at their previous meeting.

"Alright, Doc," he said, smiling. "Put your hands behind your back."

Jeb's heart pounded. Wait-_what_? He had been promised that this wouldn't be a usual arrest-no cuffs or anything. "But-" he began to protest.

"I'm sorry, pal," Wilson continued. "Chu was insistent that this had to be done by the book. You know, if you're arrested for a felony, we gotta use the cuffs."

He sighed. At this point, he was beyond trying to fight the system. "Fine," he said.

"Jeb Batchelder, you're under arrest for the vehicular assault of James Griffith and the kidnapping of Maxine Martinez. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do or say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the state of New York. Do you understand your rights?"

Jeb nodded. "Yeah," he said glumly. He allowed himself to be shoved into the police car. Helena waved to him.

"I'll meet you at the courthouse," she called.

Wilson started the police car. Jeb watched as Burns slammed the car door, effectively shutting the door on what was before and what could have been.

**Bronx Central Booking**

The first thing Jeb noticed upon arrival in the Bronx was the press. They were everywhere, swarming like flies.

"Aw, shit," Wilson swore. "It's the paparazzi. Shoulda known-"

"Let's just get Batchelder in as quickly as possible," Burns said. He opened the door to the backseat and pulled Jeb out.

"Hey, Batchelder!" a reporter shouted. "Hey! Over here!"

"Jesus Christ," Wilson muttered. All the cameras turned on them.

"Yo! Jeb!" another one shouted.

Jeb. They were using his first name-his _first name. _Clearly, he had lost all favor with the people of New York. He was theirs now-a toy for the press to mess around with.

"Jeb! Have you ever been arrested before?"

"How are you going to plead?"

"Outta my way!" Burns shouted, dragging him through the angry mob.

"What's up with that girl, Jeb?"

"Who was with you?"

Then, the tide turned once again.

"Hey, Whitecoat!" a man shouted. He had a cocky smirk and a stubbly chin. "You shithead, how's it feel to be the one locked up this time?"

They were using such vile language! And yet...it was all directed at him. Jeb had never felt so ashamed before. For once, he wished he could disappear. Finally, his lawyer came to his rescue.

"Enough already!" Helena McConnell shouted. "I'll give you a fuckin' statement! My client doesn't want any more of this 'Whitecoat' crap! This arrest is completely ridiculous. You got that?"

"Dr. Batchelder," someone said. Jeb looked at the source of the voice.

"My name's Nick Ride, I'm with the _Times. _I've tried to contact your lawyer several times now..."

Nick Ride. The sole cause of Jeb's demise. Like hell he was going to give him what he wanted.

"Leave him alone!" Burns shouted, shoving Jeb through the glass doors of the precinct and towards the holding area.

"You'll wait here before we get you fingerprinted," Wilson explained.

"Here?" Jeb looked into the cell. In it sat a scary-looking man with bloodshot eyes. "Isn't there someplace else?"

"Nope. Sorry, Doc," Wilson said, sounding completely unapologetic. "They're having some problems with the computers. You know, you're real lucky we're getting this done early. When the system crashes in the afternoon, sometimes they just take you over to Rikers for the night. Yep, you're _reaaaal_ lucky."

Rikers Island. Jeb looked down at the dirty floor. He certainly didn't feel lucky, not at all.

"Well, good luck," Burns said. The unsaid "you'll need it" hung in the air. He uncuffed Jeb and closed the cell door behind him.

"Yo," the scary man said. "Whatchu in for?"

"Hit-and-run," Jeb said. He tried to sound smooth, like he was discussing the weather. He had a feeling the whole evil-doctor routine wouldn't get him far in here. "And a kidnapping."

The man nodded. "Cool," he said.

"What about you?"

"Drug trafficking," the man said. "Tried to smuggle some ice in for my man Dave. Damn pigs got me."

"Damn pigs indeed," Jeb said, nodding in agreement.

"Indeed? You a fuckin' English teacher?" Scary Man did a double-take. "Wait a second. I've seen you on TV." A smile spread across his face. "You're one a them Whitecoats, ain't you?"

Jeb shrugged, keeping his mouth shut.

"Hey, man, don't be shy. A guy like you'll need buddies in a place like this, trust me. You know, I got your back, you got mine."

"Thanks for the offer, but-"

"Batchelder!" the officer on duty called, opening up the holding cell. "You're up!" The cop leaned closer to him. "You got a good lawyer. Your name was five places down."

He lead Jeb over to a cubicle, where they were taking fingerprints.

"Ever been arrested before?" the cop asked.

"Nope."

"Okay, then we're going to take your fingerprints, then take a mug shot."

_Mug shot. _It sounded so horrible, so wrong.

"We'll send your info over to Albany for processing. After that, you'll be arraigned and hopefully you can post bail and be outta here by dinner. Capiche?"

Jeb nodded.

"Off the record," the guy said quietly. "If you're really involved in all this bullshit, come clean now rather than later. They'll cut you a break," he said. "Trust me, five, ten years is nothing compared to what Chu'll try for."

Five to ten years-in _jail. _Jeb couldn't believe how fast everything had gone downhill. Just last week, he had been at the top of his game, and now? Now he was Jeb, the Whitecoat criminal facing five to ten years in jail-at the least. And all he could think of was that LCD Soundsystem song, the one he and Anne had listened to on that fateful day.

_New York, you're safer and you're wasting my time_

_Our records all show, you are filthy but fine_

_But they shuttered your stores, when you opened the doors_

_To the cops who were bored once they'd run out of crime._

_New York, you're perfect, oh please, don't change a thing_

_Your mild billionaire mayor's now convinced he's a king_

_So the boring collect, I mean all disrespect_

_In the neighborhood bars I'd once dreamt I would drink..._

He wanted to go home. He wanted to go to work. He wanted to see his son. He wanted anything but to be there in the musty, dirty old police station.

It was going to be a long day.


	20. Stay Away from Herald Square

**People v. Jeb Batchelder **

**Arraignment**

Sam Greene noticed her immediately. She was the ninth juror, Lissa Rhodes. The girl-the woman-with the flowing red hair and matching lipstick.

_The red-haired wonder,_ he thought, smiling. Maybe he could impress her with his prosecuting skills. Surely she knew all about the case-a man like Batchelder was a disgrace to society.

Sam was notorious for being tough on crime. But this time, he vowed to be even tougher. He would take Batchelder down, show him who was boss. Lissa would be wowed by his unflinching harshness in the face of true evil and his dedication to New York justice. And then...after all was said and done, maybe he'd ask her out to dinner and a movie and see just how wonderful the red-haired wonder was.

"Docket number three-zero-nine-eight-nine!" the bailiff yelled. "People v. Jeb Batchelder!"

Judge Renee Laurent looked down at the docket. "The charges are vehicular assault and kidnapping. How does the defendant plead?" she asked.

Renee was tall and imposing, with long black hair. In her time working in the Bronx, she had become known for her take-no-prisoners attitude. She wasn't afraid to go after drug lords or mass murderers. And she certainly wasn't afraid of Dr. Batchelder, a rather pathetic-looking blonde man.

"Not guilty, Your Honor," Attorney McConnell replied.

"People on bail?"

At that moment, a group of people in the gallery stood up. They wore blue Coalition to Stop the Madness shirts and carried anti-Itex picket signs.

"We the people want remand!" a guy shouted. "Justice for Iggy and Max!"

"Yeah!" the crowd shouted.

"Come on, Jeb, time for you to own up!" a girl screamed.

Then, they began chanting:

_"Jail, not bail! Jail, not bail! Jail, not-"_

"Enough!" Renee banged her gavel three times. "I will hold all of you in contempt if you don't sit down and shut up!"

Sam cleared his throat. This was his time. His turn to show the people of New York-and Lissa-what he was made of.

"The people request five hundred thousand dollars, Your Honor. The defendant is a flight risk and is the suspect in several severe offenses."

He scanned the jury bench, locking eyes with Lissa. Sam could've sworn she was smiling.

"Your Honor, I disagree," Attorney McConnell countered. "I'm requesting Dr. Batchelder be released on his own recognizance. He is known for serving his community as a physician and even has a son. Who's going to take care of _him_?"

"As much as I sympathize with your sob story, Dr. Batchelder, I'm afraid I can't let a kidnapping suspect walk out of here. I'm setting bail at one hundred thousand dollars, and asking that the defendant surrender his passport and any and all firearms. We're adjourned." Renee banged her gavel once more.

Sam watched as Dr. Batchelder's face sunk. He did look pretty awful. Then, he spotted Lissa again. They weren't allowed to talk-for now. Once the trial was over, however...Sam smiled at the thought of a date with her.

He had a feeling that this trial would lead to a lot more than just a conviction.

**Hoboken, New Jersey**

Ellen Thomas, Ari's mother, placed a plate of homemade cinnamon buns on the dinner table.

"I still know what you like," she said with a sad smile.

"Thanks, Mom," Ari said gratefully. He loved being there. Ellen's apartment was warm and inviting and didn't smell like rubbing alcohol, unlike the School. There was nobody yelling at him to shoot people or catch runaways. He, like Max, was free.

He had never met Max, but still admired her. Every time Ari read something new in the Times about her, he smiled a little. Good for her, getting the hell out of there.

"What happened with Jeb?" Ellen asked. Although, she had a slight idea. Jeb had probably tried to experiment on him, like he had with that girl Max after she was born.

That had been the cause of their relationship's failure. He was too wrapped up in his work-_way_ too wrapped up. He couldn't tell the difference between science and ridiculousness.

"He's involved in things I can't be involved in," Ari said. "His boss made me work at Itex, and now all that crap-sorry-_stuff_, is going on over there. I just don't want to get into any of that."

"Good choice," Ellen said. "So he didn't do...anything else...to you? No experiments were involved?"

"Not for me," Ari said. "But he took that Max girl. The one from the news. I mean, I know that's what him and his friends all wanted, but I think he's nuts. I just hate that place. They all talk about kidnapping and their experiments like it's something to be proud of."

Ellen shook her head. "It's not. You did the right thing. Jeb-your father-will have to face his mistakes." She did wonder how well he would fare in jail. He was good with words, but in terms of physical strength, he fell short. Ellen could picture him getting beat up by some thug.

She looked at her watch. "I have to go to my meeting. You sure you're fine here alone?"

Ari nodded. "Yeah," he said. Ellen smiled and ruffled his hair, like he was a kid again. "Love you, Ari."

"Love you too, Mom."

Not more than ten minutes after she left, his phone beeped with a text message.

_Marian Janssen: I want to talk_.

He ignored it. He didn't want to talk to the Director. He didn't want to see her, ever again.

But then there was a knock at his door. Sure enough, it was the Director herself.

He sighed. She wouldn't hurt him-he wasn't a subject. He reluctantly opened the door.

"How'd you get in?" Ari asked.

"Someone let me in. Nice guy." She walked past Ari and sat down at the table like she was an old friend. "Ooh, I love Cinnabons! Can I have one?"

"I guess..." Ari just wanted her to leave.

She sat up, crossing her arms. "I assume you know what happened with your father," she said, sounding more serious.

"Yeah," Ari said.

"I understand you probably want no part of it. That's why you didn't show up to work today," Marian said matter-of-factly.

Ari suddenly got an idea. He had seen on cop shows people record conversations with the antagonists. Maybe, if she said something suspicious, Ari could turn her in once and for all.

Ari quickly pressed the "record" button on his iPhone and slid it into his pocket.

"I..."

Why was she making him nervous? He had enough training that he could take her down in five seconds. So why was he so timid in front of the Director?

"You're right. I don't really want to get arrested."

"Here's the thing. Neither do I," Marian said. "But I will be if we don't get Max back. I don't have Jeb's help anymore, now that he's...in trouble."

"Won't that make things worse?" Ari asked. "I mean, no offense, but what you're doing isn't exactly legal. Plus I saw on Law and Order that if you take a plea bargain, you don't have to serve the maximum time."

"I am not serving _any_ time," Marian snapped. "We need to find her. Don't you remember what I told you? This is about more than the law. Itex is making the world better. Without Max, we can't do anything. Those other doctors, they don't do anything. It's up to us. And we need your help."

"Sorry," Ari said with a shrug. "I can't help you."

"You can, and you will," Marian insisted. "Or else...well, you've seen what happens when people don't listen to me. You know, it would be so easy in this city to disappear one night...and never come back. Just like Max and all those kids."

_The cops would know the first place to look,_ Ari thought. He couldn't believe that with all that was going on, Marian still thought she had any power.

"You can leave now," Ari snapped, holding the door open.

"That's no way to say goodbye," Marian reminded him with a smile. "But alright, I can take a hint."

"Thanks," he snapped again.

"Remember what I said," she insisted. "You'll change your mind. Trust me."

As soon as she left, Ari pulled his phone out and pressed Stop. Then, he dialed the number of the Bronx precinct, the one the newspaper had said to call if you had information about Max's kidnapping.

"Detective Wilson," a man answered.

"Hi, my name's Ari," Ari said. "I have some information for you about the Director of Itex. She just came into my house threatening me."

"Christ," Wilson said. "These people just don't know anything, do they? I'm sorry. Why don't you come over here and talk to us." _Tawk_, he pronounced it. A real New Yorker.

"Okay," Ari said. "I'm in Hoboken, so I'll just-"

"Take the PATH to Grand Central," Wilson interrupted, instructing him. "Then take the 2 train uptown and get off at the Grand Concourse station."

"Alright." Ari nodded. _Grand Central. 2 train. Grand Concourse._

"Take care," Wilson said. "And if you see her again, call 911. Do _not _approach her."

After hanging up the call with Wilson, he called his mom.

"Ari, are you alright?" Ellen asked, sounding concerned.

"Listen, Dad's boss just came here. She started threatening to hurt me unless I help them kidnap Max again."

"Oh, God," Ellen groaned. "Stay right there. I'm coming home-"

"I have to go to the police station in the Bronx. I recorded the conversation. Can you meet me there?"

"Are you sure it's safe?" Ellen wondered.

"It can't be any more unsafe than the School," Ari said. "Look, I don't know what the Director's gonna do to either of us. Just don't go home, and stay away from Herald Square."

"Okay, honey. I'll see you in...I'll see you in the Bronx."


	21. They Want Me

**A/N: This chapter got deleted! Waah! I'm reuploading it, I guess FanFiction doesn't like the Director either! (; **

* * *

><p>At some point during that week, the demonstrators learned just who exactly was in charge of Itex Laboratories. And they had staked out her apartment, moving from Itex's Herald Square location to Marian Janssen's Park Avenue apartment. Their signs had become more direct too, targeting the Director herself instead of the whole company. It wasn't like they had given up on that either, as evidenced by the hundreds of reporters swarming around Itex.<p>

"This the right place?" the cabbie asked the Director as he pulled up to her intersection. He eyed the protesters, then looked back at her.

"Yes," she said, handing the cabbie a twenty-dollar bill. "Keep the change."

At that point, she was still well-off enough to give ten-dollar tips.

"Good luck," he said, pulling away. He left her alone, alone with the angry New York mob.

The first thing she noticed was a sign that said _Dr. Marian Janssen: We want YOU!_

_They want me, _she thought. Even still on her megalomaniac high, she could tell that the sign wasn't intended as a compliment.

"Hey, it's the Director!" someone yelled in a mocking voice.

"Aayyyy, Park Avenue princess, what's up?"

"Experiment on any kids lately?"

"How's running over teenagers going for you guys?"

_Ignore them, _Marian thought, looking down as she passed them. She felt something cold and wet hit her in back. Looking confirmed that it had been a red Slushie that hit her.

_Great. They had to go for the lab coat. _It was the only symbol of authority she still had-and they had ruined that, too.

Marian felt something she didn't feel often, shame. What had happened to cause her fall from grace? Why did everyone hate her all of a sudden? Had all this...insanity...really been caused by a little car accident in the wrong part of town?

Finally reaching the safety of her room, she pulled off her stained coat and sat down at her table, glancing at the day's _Times. _

A picture of the protesters in front of her building was featured on the front page, along with a headline questioning her fate.

_Is it a wrap for this Director? _

_By Nicholas Ride_

She scowled, flinging the paper onto the floor. _"Is it a wrap."_ How cute. What a clever joke. She bet Nicholas Ride felt pretty damn proud of himself.

Hearing a knock at her front door shook her out of her thoughts. She opened it, grateful that it was Alyssa Davis, her landlady and friend, and not the police ready to drag her down to Rikers.

Marian forced herself to smile. "Alyssa!" She hugged her old friend.

"Hi, darling!" Alyssa said. Something in her tone was...off, not genuine. "How are you doing? How's work?"

"Oh, I'm great, as usual!" _Ha!_

"Good, good!" Alyssa smiled again. "Listen, I'm sorry to see all this happen to you and your company. I know it must be just _awful, _being accosted like that."

"You know." Marian shrugged nonchalantly. "Shit happens."

Her words shocked even herself. What was she _doing, _talking like that? Just how far had she fallen that she was using terms like "shit happens?"

"Yes. Yes it does." Alyssa's expression changed from friendly to slightly pained. "The press is just as bad as the protesters, you know. People like Al Rosenberg, Nick Ride...that whole lot at the _Times, _they're downright abusive. They'll waylay anyone for a story. Unfortunately, you happen to be the target here. _We_ are."

"We?"

"The whole building's being targeted, Marian," Alyssa reminded the Director. "I talked to the doorman. They plan to come here every day...until what or when, I have no idea. But they're not giving up. And that sonofabitch Mr. Chu's backing them on it."

"Isn't he supposed to stop this stuff? You know, as the DA and all?"

"Not in this case. He's _supporting_ them. He's not kidding about his 'destroy big business' scheme. He's as bad as the press. He'll do anything for a vote."

Marian nodded in agreement.

"Anyway, you know my job as the manager of this building is to make sure everything stays peaceful and conducive to a positive environment," Alyssa explained. "And I'm sorry, but this just doesn't cut it. I mean, we have _families _in this building-and those people aren't fooling around! Park Avenue's never been harassed like this before!"

"What are you saying?"

Alyssa smiled sadly. "Marian, we've been friends a long time, haven't we? And as a friend, I'd like to urge you to consider changing residences until this all settles down. I'm sure-I _know-_you're not as bad as the people are saying..."

"Change _residences_? I've lived here since I was thirty! _Eleven years!_"

She smiled again, more forced this time. "I understand."

"How _dare _you say I move out! If anyone should move out, it should be _you. _You and everyone else. Why should I leave? They don't hate _you. _The only one they hate is me...me!...and that way, everyone can go on with their lives and leave me to deal with my own problems!"

"Marian, calm down-"

"Don't _tell _me what to do!" she shrieked. "Why should I be the one to go? I caused all the problems here...all the fucking problems! I should be able to take care of things!"

"I know you're probably in a mood," Alyssa started. "I _told _you we're behind you a hundred percent, I'm just saying..."

Marian shoved Alyssa towards the door. The landlady glared at her.

"Don't put a hand on me," Alyssa snapped. "You just crossed a major line."

"Well, isn't that _fucking _wonderful!" Marian yelled, slamming the door. Immediately, she regretted the whole exchange. Maybe moving out was a good idea. Maybe she should just leave altogether, before things really got bad. She could even leave the country...Canada wasn't so bad, right? Montreal was no New York, but it was a pretty nice city...

She shook her head, chasing all thoughts of skipping town out of her head. She had to get Max back, had to stop the protesting, had to finish what she started.


	22. Ella's Missing

It had been Al Rosenberg's idea for Fang Ride meet with Roger Walker, the ex-husband of Anne Walker, the woman Max named as Jeb's accomplice in the hit-and-run and the next suspect up on Detectives Wilson and Burns's most-wanted list.

Fang had chosen the restaurant Daniel for their meeting. Daniel was, like most New York restaurants, lavish, upscale, and _expensive. _But this time, the circumstances were different. Rather than worrying about how he would pay the bill with the monthly check he received from his parents and his meager freelancer's salary, he was feeling quite comfortable financially. The Itex articles had awarded him both more than enough cash for him to live well and access to New York City's inner circle. Fang was even starting to consider moving out of his dorm and into an apartment.

And it had all happened over the course of two weeks.

"Nice to meet you, sir," he greeted the tall man. Mr. Walker was well-known for being a Wall Street financier.

"Likewise." Mr. Walker shook Fang's hand. "What would you like to drink?"

Smiling proudly, Fang said, "Scotch on the rocks."

"Ah-ha! A man after my own heart," Mr. Walker said with a laugh. "Anyway, I assume you wanted to talk about my ex-wife and the little mess she's gotten herself into."

"More like a big mess," Fang said. "You know she's been accused of kidnapping as well?"

He nodded. "I've seen the news. _Jeeeee-sus_. That company sure is taking it hard."

Fang thought of Itex once more. He suddenly became angry. Where did they get off, sitting there in Herald Square, kidnapping children like there was no tomorrow? Look what had happened to Max. He knew they had to stop them before it was too late for the others there.

"We're hoping to get a search warrant for the place by Saturday," Fang explained.

"Good." Roger snorted. "That fuckin' company is the reason I had to leave Anne. You know what she wanted to do? She wanted to have a kid just to use it as a test subject. That's what she told me. She said it's better if you 'get them while they're young.'"

"Are you serious?" Fang asked.

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" Roger asked. "That's the kind of person she is. Her and everyone else there. Back in the day, I went to a dinner for her company at the Director's apartment, they're all a bunch of pompous, secretive assholes. And they say us Wall Street guys are bad!"

The Director. Fang remembered writing an article about her the other day-there were protesters outside of her Park Avenue apartment.

"Take it from me," Roger said, leaning in. "Get the cops after 'em _all_. Every one of them deserves to be locked up."

"We're working on it," Fang promised.

Their scotch arrived. Roger grabbed his first, taking a long gulp.

"Ah," he said. Then, the coughing began. He started hacking and hacking; his face turned an awful red.

"Are you okay, Mr. Walker?" Fang asked.

He continued coughing before collapsing onto the table. The coughing stopped. He wasn't moving at all.

"Help!" Fang shouted. "Someone call an ambulance!"

He kept shaking Mr. Walker, to no avail. While the commotion was going on, his phone rang. It was Al.

"Al, Mr. Walker's suffered some sort of...I don't know...a heart attack, I guess," Fang said urgently. "I can't talk-"

"Kid, Ella's missing," Al said somberly. "Max Martinez's sister. We're all up at the Bronx station right now. As soon as you can, get up here."

Fang hung up his phone, looking around in shock.

**The Bronx Courthouse**

"Okay, what happened?" Fang demanded, walking into the precinct house.

"She-she went out with some friends for lunch," Valencia Martinez explained, sobbing. "And she never came back. I called the police."

Max was sitting with her head between her hands on a hard bench.

"Hey," Fang said softly, walking over to her. "You okay?"

She shook her head. "This is my fault," she insisted.

"No, it's definitely not," Fang insisted. "This isn't any of our faults. Its whoever took her's fault."

"Five bucks says Itex did it," Wilson said with a snort. "They're behind this."

Valencia nodded in agreement. "We need to get the rest of them arrested."

"I'll get the search warrant," Burns said. "Tomorrow, we're stopping this shit, once and for all."

**Mayor Bloomberg's Office**

Mayor Michael Bloomberg sat at his desk, intently looking at the papers in front of him. Election day was scheduled for the following Tuesday, and Robert Chu had just pulled ahead for the position of Bronx District Attorney. He figured all the Itex nonsense had gained him some popularity.

Personally, the Mayor felt it was all kind of ridiculous. Mass kidnapping? Illegal experimentation? And all in the middle of New York City? He wouldn't be surprised if the whole thing had been engineered by the press.

"Mr. Bloomberg," Laura, his secretary said. "There's someone on the line for you. It's a _woman,_" she whispered.

Mayor Bloomberg rolled his eyes and picked up the phone. "Mayor Bloomberg," he greeted the caller.

"I'm the Director," the caller said.

"I'm the Mayor. Pleased to meet ya." He rolled his eyes again.

"I know you're all after me."

It hit him. She was _that _Director, Marian Janssen, the woman the Coalition to Stop the Whatever was after, the woman the police were currently investigating. Why was she calling _him?_

"If you get the DA's office off my back, I can make it worth your while. Nobody would have to know," she promised.

"Look, Madam President," Mayor Bloomberg snapped. "I don't accept bribes, money or otherwise. And anyway...I don't deal with that stuff. You'll have to solicit the DA himself. I can get you his number," he offered sarcastically.

"Okay!" the Director said perkily. "Then you'll get to see firsthand what happens when people cross me."

"And you'll see firsthand what the inside of a jail cell looks like," he retorted. "If you're screwing around in _my _city, you're going to be dealt with." He slammed the phone down. Who did these Itex people think they were, acting like _money _entitled them to act like they did? And who had the gall to call the Mayor, anyway?

"Laura," he called. "I want to have a meeting with Mr. Chu and the chief of the NYPD. Immediately. This whole situation has gone too far, too fast."


	23. Another Face on the News

Ella Martinez, a fifteen-year-old sophomore, woke up to the clean, sharp smell of rubbing alcohol. Or was it hand sanitizer? Either way, it shocked her awake. Was she in the hospital?

She looked around the small room she was in. Ella was in a hospital-style bed next to another girl in a hospital bed. The room was small and completely white. She _was _in the hospital! What had happened?

It came back to her. She had been walking down the street to the subway station when she felt a prick in her arm. Everything went black after that. Again, she wondered _what the hell _had happened.

"They knocked you out for longer. I guess you put up a fight," the girl next to her said. She was tall, thin, and blonde, and looked to be about thirteen or fourteen years old. Her blonde hair fell down her back in ringlets. She looked almost like...Max, her sister.

"Excuse me?" Ella asked.

"What's your story?" Blondie asked. "They grab you off the street like me?"

_What's your story-off the street? _

"Okay, where the _fuck _is this?" she demanded.

"This place?" The girl snorted. "Only the School. Home, sweet home."

_Oh, no. Oh, fuck. _Ella remembered the conversations she had with the police. Detective Wilson had warned her, under no circumstances, to go near the School, because they might be out for revenge. It hadn't bothered Ella. She hated Midtown Manhattan anyway. There were too many tourists, too many lights, too much...everything. Midtown was bona fide sensory overload.

But Ella had been down in the West Village-near NYU, no less!-when the kidnapping took place. She _knew _she shouldn't have gone home alone, even in a safe area...the cops had given her a lecture...but of course she did, and look at what happened!

She got up and walked towards the door.

"Don't bother," the girl said, waving her hand. "They keep it locked. The only times you can leave are to eat, to shower or use the bathroom, and of course...when they take you for testing."

_Testing. _It sounded terrible even out of the mouth of a sweet-looking teenage girl.

"What do they do to you?" Ella wondered, half unsure if she really wanted to know.

"What _don't _they do?" the girl replied. "Mostly drug testing, which leaves you dizzy and out of it for days, if you're lucky. Otherwise they test new surgeries, test your memory and brain function, and physical strength."

"But why..."

She shrugged. "Who knows? Money, probably."

Ella again thought of the police. Detective Wilson sure had a lot to say about the Whitecoats-the people who worked there.

_Fuckin' shitheads, _he had called them. _Losers. Lowlifes. And they call us the attention whores. _

She wondered if they were as bad as they had been rumored to be. Still, she had hope she would be found quickly. After all, Max's case was so high-profile now, it made sense they would look just as hard for her. And they were planning to raid the place...

"I'm Angel," the girl continued.

"Ella," Ella said.

The door opened all of a sudden. In walked a woman with long brown hair. She was wearing a blue button-up shirt and a black skirt underneath her lab coat. Her nametag said _Dr. Walker. _

_Dr. Walker-_could it be the infamous Anne Walker, the one who had been accused of being with Jeb Batchelder during the memorable Bronx accident?

"Subject 92," she called.

Neither girl moved. Dr. Walker walked over to Ella's bed and grabbed her by the elbow. "Let's go, 92."

"I'm Ella," Ella reminded her.

The Whitecoat glanced over at Angel. "Great. They give me another one like _you,_" she snapped. "Look, 92. I don't have time to screw around. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way."

"That's what she said," Ella blurted, bursting out laughing. It was an unfortunate trait of Ella's to use humor when she was actually scared out of her mind.

"Aren't you cute," Dr. Walker snapped again.

"Just go with her," Angel urged her. "Nothing makes a difference."

"See? _She _knows the rules," Dr. Walker pointed out.

Ella reluctantly sighed and got off the bed. Dr. Walker opened the door, revealing a pure white hallway.

The hall was completely silent as the two of them walked down, unlike the bustle of a normal hospital. The silence freaked Ella out, honestly. It was like being in a TV show.

_True Life: I was kidnapped by mad scientists, _Ella thought, giggling.

"What's so funny?" Dr. Walker demanded.

"Nothing." Ella quickly recovered.

They entered a small room, also white. Everything was white, white, white. In the room was a small medical table and rows of various tools and items.

"Lie down," Dr. Walker ordered her.

Ella's heart began beating faster. "W-why?" she asked nervously.

"Because...I...said...so," Dr. Walker said slowly. She pushed Ella down, strapping her arms and legs to the table.

"What the fuck!" Ella yelled.

Dr. Walker smiled before her phone rang. "It's Anne Walker," she answered.

So it was _the _Anne Walker, after all.

Anne exited the room, phone to her ear.

"Dr. Walker? It's Attorney McConnell, Jeb Batchelder's lawyer. What are you up to?"

Anne almost laughed, thinking of what she was _really _up to. _Nothing much, experimenting on the little sister of the other girl I kidnapped! No biggie. _

"I'm at work," she said vaguely.

"Ooooh," the lawyer drawled. Saying that obviously wasn't much better, given the implications that came with working for Itex. "I see."

"Yes."

"Listen, I need to talk to you. You've been named as...as an accomplice in the Bronx hit-and-run."

"By who?" Anne demanded. But she already had an idea. Max Martinez. Subject 35. She was the only one, the only person on the "outside" who knew.

"I can't say," Attorney McConnell said. "You were also accused of experimenting on people."

Anne was silent.

"Anyway, there's nothing we can do about the illegal experimentation. But the cops are willing to offer you a deal. Testify against Jeb for the hit-and-run, and you'll be granted immunity. Meaning, no vehicular assault charges will be on your record."

"Charges...I'm getting _charged?" _

"The NYPD plans to arrest you tomorrow," she explained.

Okay. Awesome. Now she was about to get caught, which meant Itex wasn't long for the world. How could it be, with all the media attention? She was just another face on the news, another target for the American people to laugh at and view scornfully.

"They're going to question you about the kidnapping, too," Attorney McConnell warned her. "People want the truth. The _real _truth."

A pause. "What _is _the truth, anyway?"

"Um." Anne gulped.

"This is completely off the books," the lawyer reminded her.

Anne suddenly felt very, very tired of all of this. She got the urge to run down to the police station and scream, "I did it! We all did it! It was a big plan all along!"

"Itex may not be the most...legal operation," she admitted.

She heard the lawyer sigh through the phone. "Okay. Then, what you need to do is get a really good lawyer. Trust me, this whole mess isn't going to end well."

"For me, or..."

"For everyone."


	24. The City's Not Safe

**Bronx District Courthouse**

**Meeting Room**

"Okay, whadda we got here?" Mr. Chu asked Detectives Wilson and Burns, as well as Raymond Kelly, the New York City police commissioner. After two weeks of investigation, it was finally go time. They were about to formulate the plan to take down Itex once and for all. "We got missing kids. Now, missing kids are always an issue in the city. But with the evidence of their kidnapping Nick-er, Fang-Ride gave us, we've got enough for a search warrant."

Kelly nodded.

"Not only that, we can see the indirect effects of Itex. First, we got those two doctors, Dwyer and Marsden, who got shot by those, god, what are they called again?"

"Erasers, right?" Wilson said.

"Yeah, Erasers," Mr. Chu confirmed. "Now they're stayin' in Yonkers with Dwyer's parents because they're too scared to be in the city. Then we got that kid. Ari, Batchelder's son. That Director bitch started threatening him."

"Oh, that Director sure is a funny one," Burns interjected. "Yep, she's a real cutie. I can't wait to see how powerful she thinks she is in the interview room." He snickered.

"Bottom line is, the city's not safe with the Whitecoats around," Kelly insisted. Normally he detested making generalizations, or using derogatory slang terms such as "Whitecoat." As police commissioner, one couldn't be too careful. But in this case, he was so disgusted by their behavior he was willing to make an exception. Even calling them Whitecoats was too forgiving, given the fact that they were just as bad as ordinary street criminals. He was glad Batchelder had been treated like one during his arrest, and you could bet your Yankees season pass that he was going to treat the rest of them the same. Rapists, murderers, bank robbers, corrupt doctors who kidnapped and experimented on kids...in the eyes of the New York law, they were _all the same. _"All of these so-called experiments, it's bullshit is what it is."

There was a knock at the meeting room door.

"Come in," Mr. Chu called. It was nobody but Mayor Bloomberg himself. Kelly stood up.

"Mr. Bloomberg, pleasure to see you," Kelly greeted him.

He nodded, shaking the man's hand. "Same, Mr. Kelly," he said. Bloomberg turned to the DA and police officers.

"What do we have here?" he asked.

"We're planning to raid the Itex building today," Mr. Chu explained. "We've got enough evidence."

"Is that the company with the..."

"Yep," Mr. Chu said.

Bloomberg nodded again. "Good," he said. "Because you know who I got a call from? The Director, trying to bribe me into getting you guys to leave her company alone."

"No fuckin' way," Wilson said.

"We've gotta get these people under control."

"Here's what we're gonna do," Kelly instructed. "Today, at one PM, we'll block off 36th street between Broadway and 6th."

"How are we gonna do that? That's one of the most popular areas in the city," Bloomberg reminded them.

"We'll get cops on every intersection and a police helicopter overhead," Kelly continued. "At one-thirty, we'll send in the police with the SWAT team and hostage response unit. I'll send the memo out. I want every cop in the area in on this. Now here's the tough part, arresting all the perps while keeping the victims safe. Those Erasers are pretty damn scary."

"The SWAT team can handle them," Bloomberg assured Kelly.

"After the raid, we'll get Social Services to help the kids," Burns said.

"What do we do about the demonstrators?" Mr. Chu asked.

Bloomberg almost rolled his eyes. _Of course, Mr. Chu, we have to keep your precious demonstrators safe! God forbid you're not elected._

"We'll get them out of there first. But the ones at the Director's apartment," Bloomberg began to smile, "they can stay."

"Oh-kay." Wilson clapped. "Let's do this."

**Stratford Apartments**

**Upper West Side**

"I'm here to see Max," Fang told the cop guarding the door of the apartment building.

"ID, please?" the cop asked.

Fang was mildly insulted-he had been the one to expose Itex, and this twerpy cop didn't even know _who he_ _was_?

But he pulled his ID out anyway and flashed it.

"Oh, it's _you_." The cop smiled. "Nice to see you in person."

"Thanks." Fang pushed through the door and got into the elevator.

"They're taking this security thing real seriously, huh?" Fang asked Max once he reached her apartment.

Max nodded. Even after she had first been rescued, she didn't look as bad as she did now. Her face was a deathly pale, and her blonde hair was frizzy and piled into a messy ponytail.

"They're not taking any chances. I still can't go to school yet," she said. "If I go anywhere, I have to sign out and go with a cop. At Mom's work-she's a vet-they have armed cops there too."

"Better safe than sorry," Fang reminded her. "We don't want..."

She smiled, a funny smile. "Very true. So, you come here for a follow-up interview?" The article about Ella's disappearance, _MARTINEZ SISTER REPORTED MISSING: IS ITEX AT FAULT? _had appeared in the _Times _that morning.

"No," Fang said. "Just to talk. I figured, you know, everyone needs a friend."

"Thanks."

"How have you been? I haven't seen you in a while."

Max looked down. "Alright." She sighed. "Still can't sleep. That dream keeps coming back...the one with the wings..."

"I'm sorry," Fang said. The two of them sat in silence for a minute.

"I just wish...I just wish Ella was here. Knowing what they'll do to her...I can't stand it." Fresh tears appeared in her eyes.

"Hey. Don't cry," he said gently. "They're going to find her."

"What if they don't though? I've seen what happens to people who get on the Whitecoats' bad side."

As if on cue, Fang's phone beeped.

"Is it Al?" Max asked. Even she knew who Al Rosenberg was.

"No, it's...Detective Wilson." He was surprised. He wasn't the biggest fan of Wilson; he was kind of an asshole. Still, Fang could tell he genuinely cared about justice, unlike Mr. Chu, who was mostly in it for the political benefits.

_Wilson: Itex raid planned for 1:30. Can you cover it? _

He grinned. "Good news, Max."

"And what's that?"

"The cops are taking down Itex at one-thirty today," Fang said happily.

"Really?" Max perked up.

He nodded. "This is actually happening."

"That means...they can save Ella!" She jumped up, hugging Fang.

"This is amazing!" Max exclaimed again.

Fang grinned, hugging her back.

It was quite amazing, indeed.


	25. Hands in the Air!

Almost as quickly as the protesters moved to her apartment building, the death threats and hate mail flooded Marian Janssen's email inbox. Even for a particularly insensitive woman like the Director, the emails still made her cringe a little bit. It was a _little_ unsettling to have her mailbox spammed with comments from people saying they were going to slit her throat, cut off her hair and choke her with it, and throw her off the Empire State Building.

_Oh well, _she thought before highlighting all the emails and pressing "delete." It was the Information Age, after all. Who didn't get death threats these days?

She spun around from her desk to face the window. The protesters were still there. The Director felt a nagging sense of desperation_, _rather than anger this time.

_Why don't you leave? _she thought. _Why can't you just go protest on Wall Street again? _

She noticed police officers walk towards the scene. As much as she hated the police, Marian was relieved. Maybe they were finally going to be taken out of there. She watched, a smile forming on her lips as the police motioned for everyone to move away and set up barricades around the Itex building.

More members of New York's finest began to arrive, sirens blaring. Maybe someone had gotten shot or robbed, or there was a fire. It was Herald Square; there was lots that could happen.

Finally, an armored truck pulled up to the curb. Marian could hear the "whoop-whoop" of helicopter blades.

_The hell...?_

Her door opened quickly. Standing in the doorway was Eric, the head of the Erasers.

"We've got a problem," he said.

Marian glanced out the window, where the cops were beginning to arm themselves with all types of guns and bulletproof vests. It looked like they were ready to enter a war zone. She had a feeling as to what was about to happen.

"Yeah, we do," Marian said.

**Outside Itex**

"What's going on?" a female tourist yelled to Detective Wilson. He was dressed in his police uniform with a Kevlar vest. He figured it was best not to take any chances with the type of people he was dealing with.

"Get back! Get away!" he shouted at her. "This is a crime scene!"

"You ready?" Burns asked, grabbing his handgun. "This shit's gonna be huge."

"Tony, I was born ready." Wilson grinned despite the fact he was about to enter an illegal medical facility. He gave Richard Levitsky, the head of the NYPD SWAT Team, the thumbs up.

"Alright, boys," Levitsky shouted. "Let's go!"

Three SWAT team members pulled out a battering ram and shattered Itex's glass door. And that was the beginning of the end.

"Police! Everybody put your hands in the air!" Wilson shouted as they ran into Itex's lobby. He spotted two Whitecoats, who had been talking but were now running for the door.

"You're both under arrest. You have the right to remain silent..." Wilson looked at their ID's. The male Whitecoat was Roland ter Borscht, the other, Anne Walker. "Ah. Anne Walker. We've been looking for you." He handcuffed the two of them and handed them off to Burns, who finished reading them their rights.

**Fourth Floor**

The chatter of Whitecoats in the hallway grew, disrupting the School's usual quiet and sterile atmosphere.

"...the cops..."

"...they're _here..._"

"...you mean, right now?"

"...we have to leave..."

"...it's not worth it..."

"...they've got the dogs and SWAT..."

"...mother_fucker!_"

Ella looked at Angel, shocked by the noise. Was a subject trying to escape?

"What's going on?" Ella asked.

Angel shrugged. "Hell if I know."

She seemed so...indifferent. Was that what was to become of Ella, if she stayed there? Would she just stop caring, not feel what anyone did to her? She had narrowly escaped experimentation the other day due to Anne's phone call. But she knew she wouldn't always be that lucky.

They both heard a "click," meaning their door was unlocked. Something must have disrupted the School's main security controls!

"I wouldn't go out there. You'll get in trouble, which means more testing," Angel warned her.

Ella shrugged, as if to say, _screw it. _She opened the door and stepped out into the madness. She had always been a go-getter.

Detective Wilson dashed down a hallway, where doctors were running amok.

"Everybody stop moving! I will shoot you!" he shouted, holding his gun into the crowd. The hallway fell silent.

"All of you! Backs against the wall!" Wilson pushed any Whitecoat he saw onto the wall. "Nobody moves until I say so."

Among all of the commotion, Ella Martinez walked into the hallway.

"Ella!" Wilson shouted. "Get back in your room."

"But-"

"We're gonna take you someplace safe once we get these _shitheads _down to Rikers Jail," he promised her, pointing to the row of Whitecoats. "Just go into your room and don't come out until everything's taken care of, okay?" He didn't want to risk her getting hurt while he arrested all the suspects.

She nodded and went back into her room to tell the good news to Angel.

Backup officers began to arrive and handcuff the Whitecoats.

Wilson then ran up the staircase to the fifth floor and opened the first door he saw, marked TESTING ROOM 588.

"Stop!" a young boy screamed.

"Shut up," a man yelled at him. "Just shut the hell up!" The Whitecoat had a needle and was standing over the boy, who was strapped to an operating table.

"Hey!" Wilson shouted, holding his gun up. "Police! Drop the needle!"

Shocked, the Whitecoat dropped the syringe, watching as it fell to the ground. Wilson ran over and cuffed him, looking at his Itex ID. "Jordan Harris, you're under arrest for illegal experimentation. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the state of New York."

He freed the boy from the table. "Who are you?" Wilson asked.

"Gary," Gary said. "But my friends call me Gazzy. Are you going to hurt me?"

Wilson felt a pang of emotion. How horrible, that a child so young and innocent had been trapped here. "No, buddy," he said. "I'm a cop. I'm going to help you." He handed Gazzy off to a cop, Officer Tim Lewis.

"Lewis, take him back to the precinct," Wilson said.

**The Director's Office**

Marian Janssen knew she didn't have much time. She grabbed her laptop, her iPhone, and her file folder: all the items containing anything that could be used against her. If she snuck out the back entrance, she could be on the subway in less than five minutes. She could break out her fake bank account card and book a train out of the city...with a fake name, she could go anywhere! Start over, once and for all, and once everything had settled down, bring Itex back, in another city in another state.

Unless...there were police stationed outside. And the public would surely recognize her from the newspapers and TV. _Shit! _She was out of luck...with nowhere to turn.

Never in her life did the Director think she'd be in a position like that.

Just as she was about to try and think up a solid Plan B, the police broke down her door.

"Hands where I can see them!" the cop yelled out, holding his gun.

_This can't be real, _Marian thought. _No, this isn't happening...there's no way I'm being held at gunpoint!_

"You heard me," he snarled, pulling out his handcuffs.

Sighing, the Director put her hands in the air. The cop came behind her and cuffed her, making sure to pull them extra tight.

"Marian Janssen, you're under arrest for leading a conspiracy, kidnapping and illegal experimentation. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one," he laughed, "one will be appointed to you by the state. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?"

She couldn't think of anything intimidating or witty to say. There she was, standing in her own office-her own company-in handcuffs like...like any common criminal! She couldn't believe it. She felt like she was watching herself in a movie.

Finally, out of lack of anything else to say, she simply said, "Yes. I understand, Officer."

It had taken the Director ten years to climb to the top, and all of two hours to come crashing down.


	26. A Normal Life

True to Helena McConnell's word, Jeb had spent the past two days avoiding human civilization. He didn't watch TV, didn't get the paper, didn't even go online. He had deactivated his Facebook long before, so that was a non-issue. And luckily, his cell phone remained silent.

It was actually pretty peaceful for Jeb, being alone. He avoided Chuck Pearson, who he knew would only have nasty things to say. But he decided it was time to at least pretend to have a normal life. So he chose, on the day of the Itex raid, to take the Long Island Railroad out to Seaford to visit his sister, Amy Batchelder-Williams, his brother in law, Frank Williams, and his niece and nephew, Kathryn and Luke Batchelder-Williams. His older niece, Lauryn Batchelder, was at college at Boston University.

The Batchelder-Williams's house was small yet inviting, filled with Impressionist paintings and furnished with comfy couches. Jeb was seated on the floor with little seven-year-old Kathryn, indulging in some doll-playing.

"I'm Dr. Barbie," Kathryn proclaimed. "So I can be rich and smart like Uncle Jeb."

"Aw, sweetie, your uncle's not _that_ rich and smart," Jeb insisted, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Yes you are!" Kathryn giggled. "Yes you are!"

She suddenly dropped Dr. Barbie on the floor and looked up. "Hey, why don't I get to see Ari?"

"Ari's...not here today," Jeb said. "He's with his mommy."

Luke suddenly burst in with his police officer action figure. "Dr. Barbie, you're under arrest!" he yelled, grabbing the doll. "And Officer Bob took her to jail and she was never seen again!" He laughed.

_Officer Bob took her to jail and she was never seen again. _Funny how childhood games imitated real life.

"Listen, kids, I need to tell you something," Jeb said seriously. He figured he ought to tell his beloved family what was going on. "You see, sometimes grownups say mean things about other grownups. Well, some people are saying mean things about me."

"About _you?_" Kathryn's eyes widened. "But you're so cool!"

"Yes, about me. And now I'm in trouble. I...got sent to adult time-out."

She smiled. "What did you do? Did you rob a bank?"

"No, I didn't rob a bank."

"Did you..." her voice dropped to a whisper, "_kill _someone?"

_Yes. Several test subjects, on a few occasions, _he thought. But he said, "No. I just had an accident with someone, and now people are going to say bad things. If anyone gives you a hard time about me, just ignore them," he advised his niece and nephew. "Because...well, grownups aren't very nice to me these days."

"Okay!" Kathryn looked worried. "But are you going to be in...jail?"

"I hope not," he said, patting her on the head.

"Dinnertime!" Amy called from the kitchen. She placed a bowl of salad and a plate of lasagna on the table. Jeb sat down, ready to rejoin the world of the grownups.

Amy had long, wavy blonde hair and was wearing a purple house dress with slippers. Jeb envied his sister's ability to dress so casually and be so relaxed.

"So, Jeb, how was the train ride here?" she asked.

"Nice." _I didn't get anything thrown at me. That's a plus. _

"Good, good!"Amy grinned. "We're really glad you were able to join us...given all that's going on. Damn fruit flies."

"Fruit flies?" Jeb asked.

"The press. They're just so harsh! Do they really need to be so aggressive? They're ruining the life of a perfectly honest man."

"Did I tell you I was arrested once?" Frank asked, taking a big forkful of lasagna. "Back in '78. I was at a Vietnam protest...man, those were the days! I bet a lot's changed since then. What was your experience like?"

Jeb shrugged. "It was jail. Jail is jail."

"I had to spend the night in the big house," Frank continued. "Got whacked around by some thug. I got in a good swing, though!"

He suddenly felt a rush of fear. What if...what if he actually _was _sent to jail? Would he be able to hold his own against the worst thugs of New York City?

Amy laughed. "Frank was quite the rebel back in the day. Luckily things have changed since then," she said.

"The guy in the cell with me was a big-time meth dealer," Jeb said, glad he had one interesting tidbit to share.

"Yikes," Frank said. "They don't keep the Whitecoa-I mean, white-collar guys separate, I guess."

"Not in Mr. Chu's world."

"They took you up to the Bronx?" Amy asked. "Wow."

"They sure did." Jeb sighed.

"Mommy! Daddy! Uncle Jeb!" Kathryn and Luke called from the living room, where they were watching TV. "Uncle Jeb's on the TV!"

The three of them stood up and walked in.

"And in other news, the company Itex Laboratories, Inc. was raided earlier today by NYPD police officers. Police discovered dozens of kidnapped children, who reported being used as medical test subjects," the news anchor on TV was saying. "They also discovered evidence of these experiments, including files, experimental drugs, and medical equipment. Among the suspects being investigated are Dr. Marian Janssen, who goes by the alias "The Director," Dr. Anne Walker, Dr. Roland ter Borscht, and Dr. Jeb Batchelder."

"Now, Batchelder's already been arrested, is that so?" the other anchor asked.

"Yes. But now the cops are looking into the illegal experimentation charges."

"This is sure to be an interesting case!" the anchor exclaimed. "Thank you for watching NBC New York."

"Uncle Jeb, are you gonna be in _history_?" Kathryn asked. "Miss Lydia says that people on TV are always in history!"

Jeb didn't respond. He was too busy thinking of the implications of what had happened. _Itex had been raided! _Jeb was really in for it now...he bet the cops would love to get their hands on him...and the public...what would they think? Now Jeb had no job, and no future.

Amy smiled uneasily. "Well, there's nothing you can do about it now," she said. "The only thing you can do at this point is talk to your lawyer and hope for the best."

_But I'm going down anyway, _Jeb thought miserably.

"Come, let's eat," she urged him.

Jeb took a deep breath and sat back down.

So much for having a normal life.


	27. I Haven't Forgotten

Fang spotted Max sitting with her mother on a bench outside of Ella's room at Bellevue Medical Center.

"Hey!" he yelled, waving his arms.

"Hey, yourself!" Max grinned, standing up to hug him. "You guys did it. You stopped Itex."

"Hey, I didn't do anything. I just wrote about it," Fang reminded her. "Speaking of…" He reached into his bag and pulled out the latest issue of the _Times_. Unlike the long headlines of his past articles, this one read simply, _ITEX NABBED. _

_After an extensive investigation, the case against Itex Laboratories culminated yesterday in a dramatic police raid. At one-thirty PM, NYPD officers broke down the door of the building, entering only to discover the allegations of Maxine Martinez were true. Police discovered evidence of illegal experimentation as well as cell-like rooms used to house victims. Among those arrested were Dr. Anne Walker, who was also accused of being an accomplice in the Bronx hit-and-run which blinded James Griffith, and Dr. Marian Janssen, referred to as the Director. _

_The raid lasted approximately three hours. During this time, police officers arrested all of the employees, called "Whitecoats," and brought the victims, all children and teenagers, to see Social Services workers. Police anticipate all suspects to be convicted. Said Detective Wilson, whose precinct led the investigation, "This is one of the biggest cases I've ever seen in the city. With all that is happened and all that is to come, it's sure to be an interesting trial." _

"This is great," Valencia Martinez said. "I talked to my people from CSM. They're having a 'victory rally' over at Herald Square tonight. We're going to be there, of course, if you're interested in coming."

Dr. Martinez herself liked Fang, although not in the same way her daughter did. He was kind and polite, unlike most boys in his age group. And, of course, he had saved her daughter's life.

Dr. Gunther-Hagen exited Ella's room. "She's doing great," he said with a smile. "She's got a good sense of humor."

"That's my Ella," Valencia said with a smile.

ADA Sam Greene, clad in a pinstriped suit, approached the three of them. "Dr. Martinez, on behalf of the city, I'd like to apologize for what happened," he said. "We should've taken greater security measures-"

"It's fine," Dr. Martinez said. "My daughter's back. That's all that matters."

Sam nodded. "I also wanted to talk to your daughters about preparing for trial. You _do _know they'll be called on to testify." He looked at Max. "it might seem scary, but you've got to do it."

Max nodded, even though the idea of being in that courtroom and facing her kidnappers directly made her want to throw up. "I know. If I don't…" She didn't want to think about what could happen if the Whitecoats weren't convicted…how could she ever feel safe again? She already knew her life would never be the same again. She had to do whatever she could to stop them once and for all. Max owed it to herself, at the very least.

Across the hospital, Angel was struggling to get away from the doctor who was trying to perform a blood test.

"Get the hell away from me!" she shouted, shoving the doctor, whose name was Rachel Ross, away from her.

"Honey, I'm not going to hurt you," Dr. Ross insisted.

"That's what they always say!" Angel screamed. Her face was contorted in fear and anger.

"I'm not like _them_," she said. She was almost pleading with her, pleading Angel to cooperate, trying to tell her all doctors weren't bad.

"What the hell's goin' on?" Detective Wilson demanded, stepping into the room.

"I'm just trying to-"

"Whatever you're doing, stop it!" he insisted. He pulled Dr. Ross aside angrily. "She's just been abused by people like you. Do you wanna traumatize her more?"

"Those people aren't anything like me!" Dr. Ross insisted in the same pleading tone.

"I know. But she doesn't," Wilson reminded her. "Why don't you give us a minute alone?"

Dr. Ross nodded, eager for a break, and stepped out of the room.

"How's it goin'?" Wilson asked Angel.

Angel took a deep, shaky breath. "Go away."

"Hey, I'm a cop. I'm here to protect you," Wilson insisted.

"Everyone…lies!" Angel cried. "Max promised she'd take me with her when she escaped, and she never did! Jeb promised he wouldn't let the other Whitecoats hurt me, and he left! And then the Whitecoats said they wouldn't hurt me, and they did. Everyone keeps lying to me!"

"I'll make you a deal," Wilson said softly. "If I lie to you, I'll pay you a million dollars. How does that sound?"

Angel burst out into tears.

He sighed. She clearly had been badly hurt, emotionally as well as physically.

"Honey, we gotta call your parents. Where are they?" Wilson asked.

She started crying harder.

Wilson felt a sense of dread wash over him. "Where are your parents?" he asked again.

"They're gone," Angel said, wiping her eyes.

"What do you mean…gone?"

She looked down, toying with her hospital gown.

"They disappeared one day," she said, her voice growing quiet. "I live with my brother, Gazzy."

_Gazzy! _Wilson remembered the kid who he had saved at the School. "We saved your brother, too."

Angel nodded, keeping her eyes down.

"We're going to have to get you some help," Wilson insisted. "You can't live alone…"

"Why not? I've done it for months now."

"Because…it's not safe," he explained. "You really shouldn't have to be an adult at your age."

"I just don't know where they went," Angel said.

"We're going to figure it out. I'll be right back." He had to call his partner. Maybe Burns-who was interrogating the Whitecoats back at the station-would know what to do.

"Tony, it's Andy. I'm talkin' to this Angel girl. Apparently her and Gazzy are related, and their parents disappeared."

"Oh, God," Burns said. "You think Itex has something to do with this?"

"That's what I'm thinking," Wilson confirmed. "Try to get a word out of some of the people who work there." He paused. "But hold off on questioning the Director. I'd like to talk to her myself." Wilson wanted to make her feel twice as bad as Angel and the others did.

Burns understood. "I get it," he said. "Alright, I'll wait on her. Better to let her rot for a while in that cell anyway."

**86th Precinct**

**The Bronx, NY**

"I don't understand why we're stuck up here," Anne Walker complained. She, like the other Whitecoats, wasn't happy about being booked in the Bronx. "Don't we have the right to be tried where we were arrested?"

Officer Lewis was mildly amused. _What a high-maintenance little bitch_, he thought. It was funny to see these criminals brought down a few notches.

_How do you like it now? _Lewis thought. _You better not have any delusions of grandeur here! You're in the pen like the rest of your kind. _

"_Well_?" Anne demanded.

"You can be processed anywhere in the five boroughs of the city," he explained. "We didn't have enough room back in Manhattan. Thanks, by the way. You've given us quite the workload. That means we get paid overtime." Lewis grinned in satisfaction.

"How much longer until we can leave?" Roland ter Borscht, a heavyset German man sharing a holding cell with her, asked.

"Well, that all depends how nice the bail bondsman is feeling," Lewis said.

The door to the precinct house suddenly burst open. A tall girl and taller boy walked, more like stomped, in.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" the girl asked the boy. They were linking arms, and the boy had Ray-Ban sunglasses on, despite the fact that he was not only inside but it was cloudy and raining.

He nodded, stumbling as he approached the holding area.

"Where's Anne Walker?" he asked Officer Lewis.

"Right there." He pointed to the closest cell.

Anne immediately felt her heart skip a beat. _Fuck! _It was the two kids from the hit-and-run.

_We could bring them to the School. Two for the price of one. _

She should've just kidnapped them anyway. Then she wouldn't have gotten in this much trouble.

"You!" the boy-Iggy-shouted, pointing an angry finger through the bars. The girl, Nudge, held onto him to make sure he didn't fall.

_Of course! He's blind!_

"You stupid fuck!" he yelled.

"Iggy, take it easy," Nudge insisted.

"You _bitch,_" he continued. At this point, all of the officers were looking to see what was going on. "You ruined my life! I can't do _shit _anymore!"

"It was a mistake," Anne insisted.

"You don't think I know you were trying to take us to that hellhole you bitches call the School?" Iggy yelled. "Or maybe you're just a _fucking idiot! _I haven't forgotten what you did!"

"Listen-"

"No. I'm done listening to everyone!" Iggy said. "_You _better listen, and listen good. My parents are filing a lawsuit. Against you and your stupid-ass criminal company."

He thought of a line from his favorite movie, _The Social Network. _"You better lawyer up, asshole," he said in a low, scary voice. "Because I'm coming back for _everything." _

With that, he and Nudge turned around to walk away, leaving Anne, Roland, and everyone else in the 86th precinct's holding area speechless.


	28. Not What Everyone Thinks

It had been the first time the Director had ever been in the Bronx. They had run out of room in the Midtown precinct back in Manhattan, she had been told, and so they had to bring some of the arrested Whitecoats, including the Director herself, up to the 86th precinct in the Bronx.

She had hoped to be placed with one of her colleagues, so that they could maybe formulate a plan to get out of there, hopefully without anything on their record. She was a master manipulator; it had to get her somewhere...

No, she had been placed in a holding cell with a woman named Babs who liked tattoos, gambling, and prostitution, the latter had landed her in the pen, as it was called.

"I was doin' my five years at Sealview..." Babs was saying. She, for some reason, thought her jail stories were fascinating. The Director tuned her out, distracting herself by humming an Amy Winehouse song.

_They tried to make me go to rehab, I said no, no, no_

_Yes I've been black, but when I come back you'll know, know,know_

_I ain't got the time, and if my daddy thinks I'm fine_

_He's tried to make me go to rehab but I won't go, go, go..._

"Yo! Janssen!" the officer on duty yelled.

The Director perked up. Was it time for her arraignment already? Good, then she could get out of there and figure out a way to solve this stupid mess.

The cop unlocked the holding cell. "You've got a visitor already." He led her to the visitor's area of the precinct.

In the area stood Jeb Batchelder and a blonde woman.

"Attorney McConnell," the woman introduced herself. "I assume you're the Director, as they call you."

"You can call me Dr. Janssen," the Director said.

"Whatever you prefer," McConnell said. "Shall we sit?"

The three of them sat down at a table.

"I haven't been granted bail yet," Marian reminded them. She assumed that was why they were there.

"We know," McConnell said. "We just want to chat for a bit. Now, where's your corporate counsel?"

"Excuse me?"

"Corporate counsel. Your company lawyer," McConnell clarified.

The Director bit her lip.

"You _do _have a company lawyer, right? Because if you don't, that'll look more suspicious."

Of course Marian didn't have a company lawyer! The entire purpose of Itex was to pass as many patents as possible using unreliable (and illegal) testing methods without getting caught. What would any sane lawyer think of that?

"No, I don't," the Director said, looking down. "I didn't think I needed one."

"They didn't teach you that at NYU Stern?" McConnell asked. "I'm shocked."

She looked around to make sure no cops were listening. After all, anything she said could be used against her in court.

"Can I just ask you what lawyer would help me? I've experimented on more children than I can honestly count. What's a lawyer going to do for me?"

"Cover your ass," McConnell said, chuckling. "And make sure you don't go around saying things like that. It might not be looked upon so favorably. Let me ask you this. Why do you think Casey Anthony went free? OJ Simpson? Hell, Michael Jackson?"

"Luck?" the Director guessed.

"No. They had a good lawyer who knew how to play the game. That's where I come in," McConnell said. "I already represent Jeb. I'd be willing to represent you and Itex in this trial."

"I'd say go for it," Jeb advised her.

"Okay," the Director said. Just then, an officer called her name again.

"Janssen! Time's up," he shouted.

"You've got a deal," Marian said quickly as the cop pulled her away.

_And I've got myself a lawyer. Cool._

**Herald Square**

**Manhattan**

"Hello, and welcome back to CNN News, direct from New York! We're live in Herald Square, folks, where demonstrators are showing their support for the police who raided Itex Laboratories, Incorporated, earlier today," the news anchor said. "We've got Maxine Martinez, the girl who was allegedly kidnapped and kept prisoner here, here with us with a few words to say."

The anchor passed the microphone to Max, who grinned and tried to ignore the fact that she was being watched by millions of viewers.

"I just, you know..." God! How did she become such a blubbering idiot? "I think it's really sad that with all the progress we've made in medicine, people have to go and do stuff like this and ruin it for everyone. And with all that's happened, I'm glad that it's over for them and they won't hurt anyone else."

"How do you feel about testifying against them?" the anchor asked.

_Terrified, _Max thought. But she said, "I feel great. I'm glad to do my part to help my community."

"Good, good!" The anchor grinned. "And what about the reporter who saved you?"

"I owe him everything," Max said, speaking honestly. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him."

"Thank you, Max. We'll be back at eleven PM for the late-night update," the anchor said.

"Nice job," Fang said. "You a virgin?"

_WHAT? _"Sorry?" Max laughed nervously, blushing.

"Was that your first interview?" he asked again.

"Oh! Yes! I thought...you meant..."

"No, no." Fang blushed too. "Sorry. It's the lingo. Awkward. Anyway, nice job!"

"It's fine." Max giggled. She scanned the crowd, finally spotting Mr. Chu standing in front of a crowd of people. "Oh, it's our friend Chu."

"Oh, boy." Fang laughed.

"...I will fight for safety and security in New York!" Chu was shouting. "I'll work to make sure this doesn't happen again! And most importantly, I'll attack the root cause of corruption like this: corporations taking control of the city!"

"Yeah!" the crowd cheered.

Max rolled her eyes. She knew what Chu was up to: getting the votes he wanted. Election day was just two days away, after all. It was rather silly.

"Want to go uptown and grab a bite?" Fang asked.

Max thought for a minute, then nodded. "Yeah. I'm kind of over this whole political scene. It's not what everyone thinks, you know. It's kind of...overrated."

"Let's go, then. My treat."

"Awesome." She followed him into the Herald Square subway station, thinking about the last time she was here, when she was rescued from the School.

Things had a way of working out, even under the worst of circumstances.


	29. Politician Mode

"You like sushi?" Fang asked. The two were standing outside of Yamaki Sushi Bar, near where Fang lived and went to school in Morningside Heights.

"Of course." Max was suddenly aware of her empty stomach.

They sat down at a table and ordered a California roll to share, as well as two plates of Japanese dumplings.

"So," Fang began. "How are you liking life in the spotlight? Be honest."

"I don't know," Max admitted. "I'm glad people are aware of the Whitecoats. But I just want my life back. I don't really want to be Max, the girl who was kidnapped. I just want to be myself."

Fang nodded. "Understandable." He, in contrast, was actually enjoying his role. He was the man of the moment, the hero of the evening, the toast of the town. Max, on the other hand, was viewed as a damsel in distress, a label which seemed much less flattering.

The two sat in silence, enjoying the relative quiet of the restaurant. She was awfully sick of all this political nonsense with Mr. Chu and the Coalition to Stop the Madness. Not like she would ever let her mother know that...no, she had to put on a brave face for everyone.

"Somedays, I just don't think I can deal with it," she confided.

"What do you mean?" Fang asked.

"Well..." Max wasn't sure how much she could tell Fang without seeming like a total mess. "Somedays, I feel like I'm back..._there._ It sucks."

"You mean the flying dream?"

She shook her head, poking her plate with a chopstick. "Worse than that. If someone says, 'Hey, Max!' or anything like that, I just...get all freaked out."

"You ever think about talking to someone?" Fang suggested.

She smiled. "I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

Fang thought of Detective Wilson and his New York accent. _You tawkin' to me? _was a phrase he was fond of.

"I mean like...a counselor or someone."

"It's not like I was _traumatized_ or anything." Max rolled her eyes. "I've read about worse things in my history class."

Fang knew this conversation wasn't going anywhere. So he changed the subject, like a good communicator should.

"I think one of the creeps at Itex poisoned Anne Walker's ex," he said.

"Really?" Max asked.

He nodded. "I was talking to him last week about the whole deal; he just croaked on me. Right on the table."

Max's jaw dropped. "Seriously?"

"Well, you'd know better than me. How do they act when people talk about them?"

Max thought of Brigid, her other rescuer. Fang had relayed the incident with the Eraser break-in to her. Now, she and her hipster boyfriend were hiding up in Yonkers until the Whitecoats went on trial and it was time for her to testify.

"They don't like it," she said.

"Right." Fang waved his chopstick. "Now, I know Wall Streeters aren't the most liked right now with the whole 'Occupy Everything' thing, but c'mon. Do you think the Director's above planning a murder?"

Max shuddered. "No."

"Exactly. And that's why this," he pulled out a rough draft of his article about Mr. Walker's death, "is going in the _Times _first thing tomorrow."

"Things keep getting worse for them, don't they?"

Fang nodded. "Oh yeah. They're digging their own graves and loading the gun, you know? All I have to do is pull the trigger."

Max began to smile again. Suddenly, she was happy to be herself, problems and all. At least she didn't have to deal with the police. At least everyone didn't hate her-the opposite! They _adored _her. She may not have been the hero in this case, but it sure as hell beat being the perpetrator.

The following morning, in the Bronx, Sam Greene, Martha Lang, another ADA, and Burns and Mr. Chu, all sat around Mr. Chu's wood conference table, with a small, outdated TV placed in front of them.

"Now _this,_" Chu said, replaying the footage from the previous night's rally, "this is some good shit! This is what we need. But it's not all we need. Greene, Lang, this is where you guys come in."

"What else do we need?" Greene asked.

"We gotta get these people through the wringer as fast as possible. Five hundred grand bail for all the underlings, and at least a million for the Director. No less." Chu waved his finger pointedly.

"There's no reason to rush-" Lang started.

"Like hell there isn't." Chu sighed. "You all should know this case isn't _really _about illegal experimentation, or a hit-and-run, for that matter."

Greene rolled his eyes. "Then what is it about?" He hated when Chu got like this, in Politician Mode. He could be quite the sonofabitch when he wanted to be.

"Look, Greene, how many people we got going through our system who don't speak English? How many people on food stamps? They vote too," Chu insisted. "They _all_ vote! And in prances Batchelder drivin' down Bruckner like he's the fuckin' mayor, and Janssen orchestrating the whole thing. Well, I wanna light a goddamn fire under both of their lily-white asses and let everyone in the whole Bronx-_the whole city_-watch them burn to the ground."

He angrily opened a file folder, pulling out a picture of the Director and taping it to the bulletin board behind him. "This bitch right here," he pointed to the picture, "is the reason for this whole damn case. But she's also my savior. You know why?"

The room was silent. They all assumed Chu's question was rhetorical.

"She's white, rich, and has an ego the size of New York itself," he answered. "People _love _me now that she's going down."

He grinned before pulling a dart out of his back pocket and aiming it at her face. It landed square in the middle of her forehead. "So long, Dr. Janssen," he said to the picture. "And your little company, too."

The phone rang, interrupting Chu's tirade.

"DA Chu," he answered sharply. "...no, I haven't read the _Times..._you shittin' me? Roger _Walker_?"

Greene reached into his bag for the latest copy of the _New York Times. _On the front page was a giant headline:

_WHO KILLED ROGER WALKER? _

Below the headline, in smaller letters, read: _FINANCIER'S EX-WIFE IS HIT AND RUN MYSTERY WOMAN AND ITEX PHYSICIAN: IS SHE A MURDERER TOO? _

_By Nicholas Ride_

Chu hung up and smiled funnily. "Ya know, before this case, I didn't think I stood a chance with these people. Now? Now, they can't get enough of me."

"Well, you're pretty pleased with yourself, aren't you, Chu?" Greene said.

Chu ignored him. He picked up the phone and began dialing another number.

"Yo, Lewis. I want you to drop everything you're doing with the Director. You know the Walker case? I want you to _investigate that son of a bitch!" _


	30. Incognito

Mr. Walker's funeral was quite the elaborate affair. He, during his tenure as an investment banker, had accumulated many acquaintances, all of which were suddenly proclaiming to be his best friend. _What a shame, _they all said. _We'll miss him so._

Fang watched, holding his notebook and camera as the crowd gathered around the priest's podium.

"Roger Walker was a thoughtful, kind, and caring man who was loved by many and respected by all," he was saying, concluding his speech. "Now he is in God's hands, and is looking down on us today."

Fang rolled his eyes. The speech sounded as if it came out of _Eulogies for Dummies. _Not to mention, as an agnostic, he found the religious references quite annoying.

"Does anybody have anything to say about Mr. Walker?"

A slim, brunette woman walked up to the podium. She was dressed in a tasteful looking black dress, stockings and heels. Fang perked up. She matched the description given of the woman who was with Jeb in the Bronx hit-and-run.

"Hello, everyone," she announced. "I'm Anne Walker. While Roger and I have had our ups and downs, I am eternally grateful for the support he has provided me with over the years, and the time we spent together. There will always be a special place in my heart for Roger-"

"Bullshit!" someone screamed. The audience gasped.

"You killed him, and you know it!" someone else shouted. Fang turned around to see a group of Coalition to Stop the Madness demonstrators wearing the typical blue shirts and carrying the usual assortment of picket signs. "All to protect Itex!"

Fang watched in awe as Anne's face turned a ghostly pale. This was great...wait until he printed it in the _Times!_

"Mur-der-er! Mur-der-er!" they began shouting.

"What is the meaning of this?" the priest yelled. "Don't you have any respect?"

"You'll have to excuse me," Anne said, stepping down. Fang noticed her run off, and a blonde man follow her. _Jeb Batchelder!_

He followed the two to a patch of trees in the graveyard.

"Christ, Jeb, what am I going to do?" Anne asked desperately.

Making sure he couldn't be seen or heard, he ducked behind a tree and pulled out his journalist's tools. This was going to be good.

"I don't know, Anne." Jeb ran his fingers through his hair. His thoughts were elsewhere, on his dwindling bank account. He had bailed Anne out of jail...he had attorney's fees to pay...he was hemorrhaging money! Bleeding to death! "Have you thought about a plea?"

Anne wiped a tear from her face. "They want me to testify against you for the hit-and-run. But the other stuff...oh, fuck it! We're _guilty, _Jeb! We might as well give up now."

"Hey, hey." Jeb placed an arm around her. "I've got a good lawyer. We're gonna twist them around like they've twisted us around. They think we don't know what Mr. Chu is doing, but it's pretty obvious. They're trying to weasel a confession out of us so they can take the credit for our destruction. All it is is a simple political game."

He felt a twinge of anxiety. What if she actually did testify against him? The bonds of solidarity that once held the employees of Itex together were falling apart. Companies like Itex, by nature, were destined for failure from the start. Itex was a true house of cards.

"I'm not going for it," Anne said. "We have to stick together. Or we're all screwed. Have you talked to the Director?"

"She hasn't made bail yet," Jeb said. He was actually worried about Marian. It wasn't her nature to sit tight while the police ripped her life apart. The situation must have been really bad, if she was still being held at the precinct.

Jeb felt paranoid all of a sudden, hearing a rustling noise in the bushes. "Who's there?" he called.

Fang sighed, stepping out of hiding. He gave up on his attempt at going incognito. "Hey," he said. "I'm Nicholas Ride...I work for the _Times_?"

He was both nervous and curious to see just what type of people he was dealing with here.

"Oh, it's you," Anne snapped. "Come to dig up some more dirt?"

"I couldn't help but overhear your conversation."

"Really." Jeb crossed his hands, then uncrossed them, then crossed them again.

"First of all, Dr. Walker, I'm sorry for your loss," he said.

Anne nodded coldly, without looking him in the eye.

"And second of all, I understand you two were involved in an...accident in the Bronx?"

"You'd know better than us, right? With your articles?" Anne snapped. "You seem to know everything."

"I'm just looking for the facts." Fang shrugged and looked down at his camera. "I was hoping to get your perspective on all of this..."

"You want the facts? No, you're just looking for a quote you can screw around with and report back to your friend Mr. Chu, just so people can harass us more! Do you have _any _idea of what it feels like to have people calling you a murderer?" Anne asked.

"Anne, please," Jeb said quietly. "Look, Mr. Ride, with all due respect, you're not making the situation any better. These articles of yours are more biased than a Michael Moore film."

"I happened to enjoy _Capitalism: A Love Story,_" Fang said, half-smiling. His anger towards the Whitecoats flared once again. What right did they have to complain when they were the ones experimenting on children? "But I think we all know the truth, isn't that right? It's bound to come out in court, at the least. I'm just doing my job."

"Go to hell!" Anne yelled. "Do you really think you're so above us?"

"Well, Dr. Walker," Fang said, "I definitely think _Max Martinez _is above you. Or, as you refer to her, Subject 35."

Anne and Jeb looked at each other, both of their faces draining of color.

"We're done," Anne said shakily. She backed away slowly, before speed-walking towards the graveyard exit and back into the New York City streets. Jeb wasn't far behind, practically running to get away.

_You can run, but you can't hide, _Fang thought. What wimps-running from a _reporter! _Not even an official reporter-an eighteen year old journalism student! The tables had clearly turned, and turned hard.

Biased or not, he was going to write another article. He was going to write and write and write, until justice was served.


	31. You're Not Important

"You wanna cup a' coffee?" Detective Wilson asked the Director.

Actually, she did. She wanted a cup of coffee (more like three), a hot shower in her Kohler spa at home, and a change of clothes. The cops-_those dirty cops_-had forced her to stay the night in the holding cell due to a "backup in the court system." She had a feeling that they had purposely shoved her name to the bottom of the arraignment list. Now, they were questioning her. "Interviewing," it was called, like it was a friendly conversation on _The Ellen DeGeneres Show. _

"Nope," she said, emphasizing the "p." She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, mimicking the posture of the two police officers, Wilson and Burns.

"Alright. Let's get started, then," Burns said, opening a file folder. "You understand that you're entitled to have a lawyer present for this interview?"

"I understand. She'll be here soon. It's kind of a haul to get up here." Marian thought about where she was-the Grand Concourse. The _Bronx. _

Wilson chuckled. "I used to think that myself."

"You also have the right to refuse to answer any question," Wilson explained. "It's in the Constitution, you know. Along with a bunch of other silly, unimportant rights people-including children-are entitled to. But why bother with that shit, right?"

Marian stayed silent, as per her rights.

"You know, you sign a paper, this could all be over," Burns said softly. Clearly he was the good cop in this game. "If the case goes to trial, you're lookin' at twenty five to life without parole, the way Chu's thinking. With a plea bargain, you'll get ten to twenty, three square meals a day, and free cable TV."

"I'll take my chances."

"Ah, we got a gambler up in here!" Wilson threw up his arms and laughed. "Hold the presses!"

His mood suddenly shifted. "You know where I was yesterday? The hospital, seeing your friend Angel Adams. Or, don't you call her 87?" He waved his hand dismissively. "Anyway, she said her parents were missing."

"That's too bad," Marian said coolly.

"Yeah, it is _too fuckin' bad._ Where are they?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" she snapped.

"C'mon. You off her parents, then take the kids. It's the perfect plan!" Wilson exclaimed. "Let's try this again: where are they?"

"I don't have a _fucking _clue!" the Director shouted.

"Okay, okay. Let's calm it down here," Burns urged them.

The door to the interrogation room opened. It was a cop. "Janssen," he called. "You're up for arraignment."

The noise of the courtroom was deafening. There were at least three times as many demonstrators present then at Jeb's arraignment. Once they noticed the Director, they started heckling her.

"Hey, you fuckface!"

"Fuckin' whore!"

"Asshole!"

"Hey, Director! Screw you!"

Judge Renee Laurent banged her gavel angrily. "Sit down and shut the hell up! Every one of you!"

The court officer read from a file. "Docket number four-five-nine-one-three! The people of the state of New York versus Marian Janssen."

"The charges are…" Laurent looked down at the case file. "Leading a criminal organization, illegal experimentation, and kidnapping. How does the defendant plead?"

"Sorry?" Marian asked.

"How…do…you…plead?" Laurent asked, speaking as if she was speaking to a young child."

"I didn't do it, if that's what you're asking."

"Jesus Christ," Helena McConnell muttered. "Shut the hell up, Marian. The defendant pleads 'not guilty,'" she announced.

"Okay," Laurent sighed. "People on bail?"

Sam Greene grinned, showing two rows of shiny white teeth. He locked eyes with the Red-Haired Wonder in the jury booth.

Today, Lissa was dressed in a turquoise suit and a pink scarf. On anybody else, the outfit would have looked garish and ugly, but it only complimented the Red-Haired Wonder's bold looks.

"Your honor, we have a bail agreement of one million dollars," McConnell reminded the judge.

Greene stood up. "Your honor, we do not believe that it would serve the interests of _justice, _to allow such a defendant to…shall we say, stroll out of here on a _token bail!_"

"Yeah!" the courtroom demonstrators yelled, clapping and cheering. "You tell 'em!"

"One million dollars is pocket change for a woman like the Director," Greene continued. "Therefore, I am _insisting _that the defendant be held _without bail, _if only to protect the children of New York City!"

A group of people from the CSM stood up. "Lock her up, shut her down!" they chanted. "Lock her up, shut her down!"

"Be quiet!" Laurent yelled. She banged her gavel once more. "I will clear the courtroom if this _childish _behavior continues!"

"Your honor, we had an agreement-"

"Especially given the emotions of this community," Greene added. There was more cheering. "In fact, District Attorney Chu himself asked for a change in bail."

"Chu! Chu! Chu!" a group of Chu's supporters cheered.

"Mr. Greene, if your office wishes to change Dr. Janssen's bail status, I urge you to file a formal request," Laurent said. "In the meantime, I am releasing the defendant on a bond of one million dollars."

The demonstrators began booing. The booing grew louder and louder, until Laurent banged her gavel five times.

"I said _shut up! _We're adjourned until trial," Laurent yelled.

Marian walked to the courtroom exit, where the mob of paparazzi was waiting for her.

"Hey, Director! Why'd you do it?" one reporter screamed.

"Give us a fuckin' statement already!"

"My client has nothing to say to you… you pack of _wolves!_" McConnell yelled at them. She put a protective arm around Marian, leading her through the mess of people.

"Where can I find a taxi?" Marian asked. "I need to…I want to go home."

McConnell laughed. "Dr. Janssen, you really think Manhattan taxis are going to come up here?"

"It's not like I'm familiar with this part of town," Marian snapped.

"Come on. We'll take the subway," McConnell said.

"I don't usually take the subway…" The Director hated the subway. It was dirty, gross, and filled with…the _masses_. Subways, in her opinion, were more disgusting than McDonald's. "Who takes the subway around here?_ Gang members, _that's who."

She ignored the obvious fact that she was no better than them herself.

"It'll be fine. The good thing about the subway is nobody gives a fuck. Nobody's gonna be shoving a camera in your face," McConnell said. The two walked down into the subway station and boarded the 4 train headed back to Manhattan.

"You're in luck. This train goes to Park Ave," the defense attorney explained. "I'll make sure you get home safely."

"Thanks."

The two of them sat in silence as the train bumped along. The subway announcer announced the stops.

_138__th__ street…125__th__ street…116__th__ street…110__th__ street…_

Even though they were in East Harlem, Marian felt better knowing she was back in Manhattan.

"My dad used to ride the subway," she said, trying to make conversation.

Helena McConnell laughed. "Bet he didn't live in the South Bronx, though."

"No, Morningside Heights. He was a doctor up at Columbia."

There was a moment of silence.

"I don't understand why I'm so important to them," the Director said.

"You're not important, don't worry," McConnell said. "You're just dinner."

"Huh?"

"You're their dinner. They're gonna have their fun, chew you up, and spit you out. Then it'll be on to the next poor soul the press targets." She shook her head. "It sucks, but it's how things are in New York."

"Well, that's a lovely image."

"This is a Utica Avenue-bound 4 local train," the announcer said. "The next stop is 77th street."

"That'll be your stop," McConnell explained. "You take care now, alright?"

Marian nodded, slipping between the subway doors.


	32. Unbelievable

"So listen, we gotta figure out what to do with Angel and Gazzy," Wilson said to Burns.

"I'll start contacting foster homes. Have Social Services gotten any word out of her?"

As if on cue, like it had all been planned, the Social Services counselor opened the door to the room of the precinct where she was talking to Angel.

She shook her head. "She doesn't want to testify," she said.

"Aw, come on." Wilson threw his hands up. "We get her to get emotional, really lay it on thick for the jury, they'll love her. Little blonde-haired, blue eyed twelve-year-old...America's sweetheart! You know, Chu's not gonna like this-"

"She's _twelve,_" the counselor insisted. "What do you want to do, subpoena a little girl? Come on. You know better."

"Andy, we've got Max and Ella, Fang, Brigid and Bryce, Iggy and Nudge, and several other victims testifying. We can do this without Angel-"

"The girl lost her fucking parents! We all know the Director did it-"

"I'm not so sure Janssen did do it," Burns insisted. "You know how many murders there are in this city? How can we be so sure the Director did it? If we're going there, we gotta blame her for every crime that's ever been committed."

"Seriously?" Wilson asked. "You're takin' her side?"

"Hell, no! I'm just saying-"

"Whatever." Wilson shook his head. "We'll deal with this later. Let's just make sure she's not worse off than before."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know how foster homes can get," he explained. "We've had cases where kids have been beaten, raped, worse..."

"What else should I do?" Burns insisted. "What civilian would want a couple of kids who've been kidnapped and abused?"

"I'll take them in," Valencia Martinez suddenly offered. "I'm not letting the two of them go into one of those awful foster homes."

"Whoa. When did you get here?" Wilson asked.

"Just now. We're here for trial prep."

Max nodded in agreement.

"I'll take care of them," Valencia continued. "Until we find someone to adopt them, or we find their parents."

"If we find their parents," Wilson added. "Okay. Let's just sign some paperwork, and you'll be on your way. Thanks, Dr. Martinez. Can't tell you how much you've done for this case."

Valencia smiled warmly. "Anything for the cause." She patted Max's back. "You don't mind, do you?"

Max shook her head. "Not at all." She _loved_ Angel-she was quite the sweetheart.

Angel walked out of the room with the counselor. "Oh, no, not _you,_" she snapped.

"What's wrong?" Valencia asked. "You're going to come and stay with us for a while. Your brother, too."

"You fucking liar!" Angel shouted. "You promised you wouldn't let me stay there! But you left, and left me there all alone."

"Angel, I'm sorry." Max's face was beginning to turn red with embarrassment and shame. "I _had _to leave when I did. If I had stayed, neither of us would be here today. When Fang and Brigid came, you were in testing..."

"So that's it?" Angel said. "You were willing to let me stay there and be...tortured by those..._shitheads_?"

"Language," the counselor gently reminded her. She had been raised in a conservative family in Pennsylvania before moving to the city for college and was still getting used to the harsh, blunt ways of New Yorkers.

"_He _called them that." Angel pointed at Wilson. "And it's true. Max doesn't care one bit about me."

"No! I do! That's why I went to the cops!" Max insisted. She was becoming both frustrated and sad. Why couldn't Angel see Max was just trying to help...to make everything right? At that moment, she would've done anything for Angel to forgive her. "I didn't want anything bad to happen."

"Well, it did! They hurt Gazzy," Angel cried.

Wilson perked up. "How?"

"I heard s-some of the Whitecoats talking. They were going to inject something in his head."

Wilson remembered when he saved him from testing the fateful day of the raid. He turned to Burns. "What did the hospital say?"

"They said he was good to go."

The counselor who was talking to Gazzy, a slim man with mousy brown hair and gray eyes, ran into the main precinct area.

"We need to call an ambulance," he said breathlessly. "The kid's having a seizure."

**Starbucks**

**E. 19th Street**

"Look, Dr. Batchelder, with all that's happened, I find it both funny and _unbelievable _that you're concerned about being ethical here." Helena McConnell crossed her arms.

"I'm trying to stay _out _of trouble. Bugging the ADA's apartment? That'll only get me in more trouble," Jeb reminded his lawyer, who at the moment, was acting more convoluted than Jeb himself.

"You saw the way Greene was looking at her. Her name's Lissa, by the way. Lissa Rhodes," Helena explained. "I'm gonna put it bluntly, Dr. Batchelder, he wants to do her."

"He's not even allowed to _talk_ to her, right? Do you think Chu's gonna let him jeopardize this case...the case against me and everyone else?"

"Chu doesn't need to know." Helena shrugged. "Come on. They go for a little quickie back at his place, go back to court the next day, and everything goes back to normal. But it's our only hope at getting the charges dismissed if we can expose Greene for the womanizing man-whore he is."

"But-"

"Dr. Batchelder, you don't stand a snowball's chance in hell in that courtroom. Neither does your friend Anne, or the Director, or anyone else from Itex, for that matter. You guys fucked up real hard. You saw how angry the public was. You're lookin' at 25 to life for sure."

Jeb thought of his freedom, his life, his money. All of it, _gone _as easy as it had been gained. All because of one stupid mistake-one wrong turn-that set his life on a path hurtling towards a fate he could never have imagined.

He suddenly hated the Director. This was all _her _fault, plain and simple! It was her idea, her company. And how stupid of Jeb, to allow himself to be sucked into this game. His life had been so promising after Yale. Why had he gone and thrown it all away?

The lyrics from "New York, I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down" by LCD Soundsystem popped into his head once again:

_And oh, maybe mother told you true_

_And they're always be something there for you_

_And you'll never be alone_

_But maybe she's wrong_

_And maybe I'm right_

_And just maybe she's wrong..._

"I know an electrician who can bug the place," Helena continued. "So, you in?"

What did Jeb have to lose?

"Yeah, I'm in. Let's do this."


	33. Law and Order

The Bronx District Courthouse's main courtroom was slightly theatrical looking, with its oak paneling and rows of seating which all faced the main attraction, the trial area. _Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, to see the greatest show on Earth!_

It felt especially like a show on the day of the Itex trial, with the hundreds of protesters and general bystanders clogging up the benches. There was barely any room for Max and her family.

Angel still refused to testify, especially with her brother injured. She wasn't even present at the trial that day. She was at Gazzy's bedside, who, after his seizure, had fallen into a coma. Dr. Gunther-Hagen hadn't even been able to figure out what had happened to him, but it was something to do with the Whitecoats, he speculated. _Those damn Whitecoats. Can't wait to see them crash and burn on the witness stand. _

Mr. Chu waltzed into the courtroom, a big, shit-eating grin on his face, with Sam Greene and Martha Lang following behind. Max knew why he was so happy; for it was not only the first day of the trial against the Whitecoats, but also the big E. _Election Day. _There was little question about who would win the position of Bronx District Attorney. Chu's opponent, Tim McCarthy, had fallen far behind in the polls. It seemed, as Fang, Mr. Chu himself, and basically everyone else predicted, that taking down Itex had allowed Mr. Chu to cast a spell over the constituents of the Bronx. One take-down, and suddenly Mr. Chu was the enemy of corrupt business everywhere! He was the protector of the people, the master of law and order!

"All rise!" the bailiff called. "Case number six-two-nine-four-three! People v. Itex Laboratories, Inc. The honorable Judge Renee Laurent is presiding. You may be seated."

Laurent walked into her position, her black robe flowing elegantly behind her. She, unlike the public, was not looking forward to the case. She just wanted it to be over and the "guilty" verdict to be read so she could go home and read her book.

"The people may make their opening statement," she said.

ADA Sam Greene stood up, locking eyes with Lissa in the jury booth once again. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," _one special lady especially, _"this is a case of illegal experimentation, criminal negligence, and overall idiocy. Let me ask you this, how many of you have children of your own? How would you like to have your children ripped from you and used in horrific-and unnecessary, mind you-medical experiments? These people not only stole children's lives, they stole innocence from young people in their prime stages of life. More importantly, these experiments are an attack on personal freedom. If you value your country, your city, and the freedoms you enjoy, I ask you to render a verdict...in the form of _guilty!" _

"Thank you, Mr. Greene. The defense may now make their opening statement."

Now, it was Helena McConnell's turn. She stood up and walked over to the jury. "ADA Greene called my clients' alleged actions an attack on personal freedom. Ladies and gentlemen, what is more an attack on freedom than locking up innocent people? My clients have no malevolent intentions other than to benefit science and help the world. This case is merely a power trip put on by the District Attorney's office to sway public opinion. You be the judge; which do you prefer? Science, or insanity?"

"Thank you. The people may call their first witness."

"The people call Dr. Valencia Martinez to the stand."

"Go get 'em, Mom," Max whispered as her mother stood up."

"Dr. Martinez, when did you first realize your daughter was missing?" Greene asked Valencia.

"When she didn't come home from the movies, I knew something was wrong. Max has always been a responsible kid."

"What was your reaction?"

"I knew I had to call the police."

"As time went on, how did the case progress?"

"I became more and more desperate. They weren't finding any leads. But still, I had a feeling she was alive. Mother's intuition, you know?"

Sam glanced over at Lissa, who was smiling sadly. _How sad, _she was probably thinking. _How sad for a mother to lose her daughter. _

"How did you feel upon learning what had happened to your daughter?"

"I was angry, of course!" Valencia exclaimed. "How can you do that to another human being, let alone a child-_a child!_" She scanned the defense area for the Director, who was sitting up with her arms crossed. "You should all be ashamed of yourselves."

"Yeah!" the demonstrators in the courtroom gallery shouted. "Go Valencia!"

"Enough!" Judge Laurent banged her gavel. "The defense may cross-examine the witness."

Greene grinned, sitting back into his seat. This was the perfect case-and he had it in the bag.

**Two Hours Later**

After Valencia, Iggy, and Nudge had all been questioned on the stand, the trial was adjourned for the day.

"Some case, huh?" Lissa Rhodes said to Sam Greene as he passed her.

"Huh? Oh, definitely," Greene said.

"I can tell you what my verdict's going to be," Lissa said with a smirk.

"Look, I'm not allowed to talk to you," Greene reminded her.

"Do you see anyone around us who cares?" Lissa asked. "Come on. You've been checking me out since the arraignment."

Sam blushed. It _was _true, after all.

She leaned closer to him; he could feel her cool breath on his skin. "Want to grab a drink?"

How could he resist? He _was _a red-blooded man, after all.

A few hundred yards away, Fang, who was taking pictures, spotted Max on the courthouse steps.

"Hey, Max!" he said, waving. "Picture?"

Max and Dr. Martinez scooted closer to each other and smiled for the camera.

"It's good to see you! How've you been?" Fang asked.

"Good," Max said. "Everything's getting back to normal. Soon, we'll be able to put this all behind us."

"Well, I couldn't be more happy to hear that," Fang said. "I know this case has been hard for everyone."

Detective Wilson suddenly rushed over to them. "Guys. I have terrible news," he said somberly.

"What?" Fang and Max collectively asked. They looked over at each other and laughed, despite the fact they were just about to receive terrible news.

"That kid Gazzy...the one who had the seizure," Wilson began. "I just got a call from the hospital...they couldn't save him."

"So..."

"He's gone," Wilson said, lowering his voice. "Gazzy's dead."

There was a moment of silence, both to process what had just been said and to honor the memory of a boy whose life had been snatched brutally from him.

"Oh, no," Fang whispered.

"Now, Chu'll say it'll help the case. But I think it's just awful. What a fuckin' shame." Wilson shook his head. "What a fuckin' shame."

"Well," Fang sighed. "All the more reason to convict the bitches. These people are going to pay for what they did."

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><p><strong>AN: And with that...I bid you adieu for a week! Sorry folks, I'm going on vacation and will be unable to update until I return next Friday. So read, review, and stay tuned! (: **


	34. Contingency Plan

**Bellevue Hospital**

Max and Angel sat on the hard bench of the hospital. Angel still refused to talk to Max, on the grounds that she had purposely left Angel behind at Itex.

"Angel, I'm so sorry-" Max began.

"Fuck you," Angel replied. That statement was a bit of a conversation killer.

Valencia Martinez exited the hospital room, her face sunken. "Angel," she practically whispered. "They need a family member to identify the-the-"

"The body?" Angel asked, sighing heavily. "I'll do it."

"Is there anyone I can call? Grandparents or-"

"They're in Bali," Angel answered, getting up to go into the room without looking at Valencia or Max.

Valencia and Max sat in silence for a few minutes.

"She'll come around," Valencia assured Max.

"I don't know." Max looked towards the room Angel was in. "She's really mad."

"Think about if it was you. Well, are you mad at Jeb?"

"Hell, yeah," Max said forcefully.

"Exactly. But people aren't...they're not...always as terrible as you think. Even Jeb."

"Jeb's a kidnapper," Max reminded her.

"He's also a person, with thoughts and feelings, like you," Valencia explained.

"He's not anything like me!" Max snapped.

Valencia sighed. "We'll talk about Jeb later." She watched as Angel nodded at the medical examiner, then walked out of the room.

"He said Gazzy had a brain hemorrhage," Angel explained in a soft voice. "Because of an experiment."

Valencia didn't say a word. She simply reached into her bag for her Droid phone and dialed a mysterious number.

"What are you doing?" Max asked.

"Calling a lawyer," Valencia said. "I'm suing that Director woman. I'm suing her for all she's got."

A day of legal and political upheaval had left the Director exhausted. Surprisingly, she was dreading her return home from the Bronx. She knew what she would have to face-an uncomfortable subway ride home, protesters, and possibly being assaulted with frozen drinks. Lovely.

Upon arrival at the 77th street subway station, she was immediately surrounded by paparazzi.

"Aaaayyy! The Director's taking the subway!" one of them shouted obnoxiously. "Where's your limo, princess?"

Desperately, the Director reached into her bag for a copy of the _New York Times _and held it protectively in front of her face. It was only after she had passed the mob that she realized it was her face on the cover. Some good that little move did.

_ITEX DIRECTOR APPEARS IN COURT, _was the headline.

_By,_ of course,_ Nicholas Ride._

She never had been so relieved to go home, even after her first adventure on the New York City subway. Unfortunately, she was disturbed by a banging at her door.

"Door's open," she said, even though she had never left her door unlocked in her life.

The banging continued.

_Maybe...if I just ignore them, they'll go away, _she thought.

Eventually, she got up to see who it was. It was Alyssa Davis, her landlady, along with Chris Thompson, Emily and John Roberts, and Peter McClain. All of the members of her building's co-op board.

"Hey, Alyssa," she greeted the landlady. "Listen, I am so sorry about the other day. I was way out of line."

"Yes, you were," Alyssa said in a pinched tone. "That's what we need to discuss. Among other things. May we come in?"

_We_-they were a mob, like the people of the Coalition to Stop the Madness! They were there, invading her apartment!

"Okay." Marian stepped aside, allowing them to come in.

"Let me put this frankly," Alyssa said, crossing her arms. "We feel that your presence in this building is not only provoking the...anger of the demonstrators, but is a deterrent to new residents as well."

"A deterrent?" Marian narrowed her eyes.

Chris Thompson nodded in agreement. "We recently had a family turn us down because, well, they have two children, and they were concerned that...given what you've been accused of..."

"And you believe them?" Marian demanded. "You believe all those _reporters, _the lying press? The CSM, for God's sake?" She paused. "Emily. We used to shop together-don't you remember that? You'd meet me at Macy's on our lunch breaks and we'd get coffee and-"

"Of course I remember!" Emily Roberts exclaimed. "_I _don't believe them. I believe _you, _of course. But everyone else-"

"We feel it's best if you don't live here anymore," Alyssa snapped bluntly. "In a week, I want you out of here."

"She'll probably be in jail anyway," John Roberts whispered to Peter McClain. Both of them snickered.

"Right. I'll probably be in jail, so what the hell does it matter? I'll move out right now!" Marian yelled. She ran into her bedroom and pulled out a giant suitcase, madly throwing her clothes and shoes into it, along with a bottle of her favorite perfume, Gucci's _Guilty. _By the time she was through packing, the intruders were gone.

She pulled out her phone and scrolled through the numbers, looking for someone, anyone, to call. Finally, she settled on her ex-boyfriend, John Abate.

"Marian?" John asked in disbelief. "That you?"

"It's me," Marian confirmed, not really believing it herself. "Listen, I'm in trouble."

"Well, I know that," John laughed. "I've been reading the papers, you know."

"Besides that. I'm homeless now."

"And you need a place to stay," John finished for her.

"Exactly."

"Look," John sighed. "I feel kind of awkward saying this, but I can't let you stay with me. I'm in the CSM now, and if people found out..."

Marian was taken aback for a second.

"You must have some sort of a contingency plan," John said. "I mean...doing what you've been doing..."

"I don't have a contingency plan," she snapped. "And what do you mean by doing what I've been doing?"

"C'mon, Marian. You and I both know the truth."

"You've changed, John. You're just like the rest of them," she snapped into the phone. "Fuck you."

John was silent. "Good luck," he told her, before hanging up.

Marian felt tears fill her eyes as she looked around her apartment-wait, it was no longer her apartment. Her _former _apartment. What had happened to her? She was losing her company. She was losing her freedom, her life. And now she had lost all of her friends and her apartment as well.

_I'm homeless, _she thought as she closed the door on her apartment and what her life had been before Itex had gotten raided. _I'm fucking homeless. _

_Thanks a lot, Subject 35. _


	35. This Case is Dismissed

On the second day of the people's case against Itex, it was a nice, balmy day, at least for a November day in the Northeast. There was a Yankees game going on just nearby, a game against the Dodgers.

_How ironic, _the Director thought as she was questioned by the prosecuting attorney on the witness stand. How ironic that people would come from all over to drink a beer or two and watch a tiny white ball hurl through the air. They were watching an imitation of war, while the Director was in a _real _war of her own!

"Dr. Janssen, please read the highlighted statements on the paper in front of you," Sam Greene ordered her.

Marian looked at the words, words she herself had written. "Subject 291 was treated with 5 mL of the experimental substance at approximately two PM. At 5 PM, Subject 291 began vomiting and had a fever of 103 degrees Fahrenheit. At 9 PM, Subject 291 expired."

"Did you or did you not, authorize this experiment?"

_I'm sorry, _she thought as she was about to perjure herself. "No, I did not."

"You did not," Greene confirmed.

"Yes. Yes, I did not write this."

"Yeah, you did!" one of the demonstrators shouted angrily. His fellow protesters shouted in agreement.

"Be quiet!" Judge Laurent shouted, banging her gavel. "Order! Order, I say!"

"That is all," he said, dismissing her. "The People call Maxine Martinez to the stand."

Max walked up to the witness stand, glaring at the Director as she stepped down.

If looks could speak, hers was saying, _Time's up, bitch. _

Max placed her hand on the bible.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" the bailiff asked.

"I do."

"You may be seated."

"Now, Ms. Martinez, describe what occurred to you at this...facility," Greene said.

Max gulped. She thought of what had happened when she was in the School.

_"Stop! Get away from me!" Max screamed at the Whitecoats. But they wouldn't stop. One of them held her down as the other stabbed a needle into her arm. _

_Max felt her entire body go limp as she fell back against the table. _

_"That'll keep it quiet," one of them snickered. "Don't want all the tourists hearing it scream." _

_One of them picked up a small scalpel and began slicing into her abdomen. It was the last thing she remembered before she blacked out, from the drug and from pain and exhaustion. _

"They tested stuff on me," Max said vaguely.

"What kind of, er, 'stuff?'"

"Mostly drugs," Max explained. "Once or twice, they'd, um, operate on me, to try and test a new procedure."

"Did they anethesize you for these procedures?"

"Oh, of course. I remember, once one of them said that they 'don't want all the tourists hearing it scream.'"

"I'm sorry, did you say that they referred to you as an 'it?'"

Max nodded. "They did."

"Can you remember who made that statement?"

She thought back, back to the Whitecoat's skirt and button-up shirt, a preppy outfit traditionally worn by...

"Anne Walker," she told the court.

This sparked more booing from the demonstrators.

"What a whore!" one of them screamed.

"Hey!" Laurent shouted, banging the gavel once more. "In...my...court, you will speak when spoken to and _only _then! Only the _jury _is chosen to pass judgement, and _they _will speak when I tell them to. This is _my _court, and I will _not _tolerate such language! So until I tell you otherwise, YOU...WILL...BE...QUIET!"

"Thank you," Greene said with a nod.

Jeb Batchelder was sitting in the defense area, a smirk on his face. He was waiting for the right moment, the right time to present the defendant's exhibit A himself, and this was it! The People of New York were going down after _this. _

Inconspicuously, he pulled out his iPhone and pressed a button. A voice, unmistakably Sam Greene's, rang out through the court.

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" he asked.

There was another voice, a woman's.

"Aw, come on, Mr. ADA Greene. Loosen up a bit." She giggled.

"_Oh!" _a woman in the jury booth exclaimed as she fainted dramatically. It was the Red-Haired Wonder: Lissa Rhodes.

"We got time for a quickie, don't we?" Lissa continued on the recording.

"Well, I'm sure I could pencil you in." Sam laughed, a hearty, masculine laugh.

Then there were other noises, noises Jeb felt the court didn't need to hear. They had heard enough. He shut the tape off.

In the gallery, the now-reelected Mr. Chu put his face in his hands. Fuckin' Sam Greene had just gone and blown the whole case! All his hard work-down the toilet.

Greene looked around the court with wild eyes, finally spotting Jeb with the phone.

"Give me the fucking tape," he growled, launching himself at Jeb. Sam swung-and what a good swing it was!-and nailed Jeb across the face, sending him sprawled across the floor. Sam picked up the iPhone and hurled it at the floor, watching as the device smashed into pieces.

The demonstrators went crazy, yelling obscenities. In a feeble attempt to control the crowd, Laurent banged her gavel.

"_Approach! The! Bench!_" she ordered Greene, Jeb, and Helena McConnell.

"Dr. Batchelder, was that your recording?" Laurent demanded.

Jeb nodded.

"And Mr. Greene, did the...events on this tape actually occur?"

Greene looked back at Lissa. He looked down, then said, "Yes. It did."

Laurent looked from Jeb to Sam. "Get out of my face," she spat. "Back to your seats. All of you."

She then addressed the court as a whole. "Given recent discoveries, I am hereby closing the case of the People v. Itex Laboratories. This case is dismissed."

"Hell, no!" Mr. Chu shouted.

Sam stood up in anger. "Your honor, I am aware that my actions were unethical. However, your action will do irreparable damage not only to the People's case-"

"Mr. Greene-"

"-but to the cause of the People as well. Your honor, in this courtroom are many members of the community so affected by Itex and this case. It ill behooves the criminal justice system-"

"_MR. GREENE_! Kindly behoove me no ill-behooves!"

"Your honor-"

"_THE COURT DIRECTS YOU TO SHUT UP_!" Laurent yelled. "Please be aware, ladies and gentlemen, that you all have a lesson to learn from this case! A lesson in ethics and decency!"

The courtroom fell silent.

"Do any of you even know what decency is? Decency is _not _using children and innocent people to make a profit." She glared at the Director. "Decency is _not _throwing defendants to the mob for...for _political_ gain." Laurent turned her glare to Mr. Chu. "Decency isn't an experiment, or a political angle, or a contract. Decency...is what your grandmother taught you."

The people of the courtroom sat in the quiet, absorbing what had been said.

"Fuck that!" someone shouted, a young man-Tim Jones, that girl Nudge's brother. "This shit isn't justice! There's nothing decent about this!

After that, it was all over. The protesters formed a mob, clogging the exit of the court and shouting angrily.

The battle against Itex may have been lost, but the war was far from over.


	36. The People's Anger

**A/N: Sooo, FanFiction pulled a Sam Greene and didn't update my story (well, the chapter showed up, but it didn't bump the story up to the first page so nobody could find it). So that means you guys get an EXTRA chapter! Woohoo!**

* * *

><p>The courtroom officers got into position as soon as they had heard Judge Laurent dismiss the case. There were eight of them, all bulky men with their hands on their guns. They watched curiously as the people's anger grew and became overpowering.<p>

"Yeeech! That's what we get in the Bronx!"

"Fuckin' Chu! I voted for him, too!"

"Where's the justice?"

One man even jumped up onto his seat and broke into an angry rant.

"We work, and we fight for this community, and whadda we get? Racism and elitism!" he shouted.

"Sir, let me remind you you are still in my courtroom, and I have to ask you to leave!" Laurent shouted.

"You can't remove the people!" he screamed. "You can't get rid of _our _justice!"

But yet two of the officers grabbed him by the arms and ripped him off the seat, tossing him beyond the courthouse doors and into the mesh of angry patrons.

The demonstrators began overpowering the officers, streaming through the courtroom doors. It was like an angry tidal wave was crashing down onto the Bronx District Court...a tidal wave of pure hatred and rage.

Helena McConnell struggled to find her clients, especially Jeb, Anne, and the Director. There was so much pushing and shoving and shouting..._what was this, a high school riot? _

The court officers weren't so concerned with the former defendants. Their main concern was Laurent, who was heading towards the front with the mob.

"C'mon, Judge!" one of them shouted. "We'll getcha out the back!"

"No, Charlie." Laurent shook her head. "I'm not giving them the satisfaction."

"C'mon, Judge!" Charlie shouted again. "You're going down on your elevator."

A few yards away, Marian Janssen was being accosted by a tall, burly man with an earring and five o' clock shadow.

"You might think you're free, but your day's done," he snapped, grabbing her by the elbow. "You're done, and as soon as you step outta that court, you're ours now, you hear me? You understand that, Director?"

With that, he raised his left fist, and was about to pummel her to the ground, before Max Martinez drove her knee into the man's genitalia. With a loud _Ooof!, _the man fell to the ground, clutching his crotch.

The Director looked at Max (Max? 35?) in shock.

"Thanks," she said.

"That wasn't for you," Max snapped, turning back towards that reporter guy, Nicholas Ride. "I'm just a _decent person._"

Those were the only words the two would speak to each other.

"_Mari!" _McConnell shouted. _Mari. _She wasn't even Marian anymore. "Let's get the fuck outta here!"

A court officer was pushing her back, back towards where the judge was walking, just as McConnell pulled her along into the elevator.

The lawyer looked around. "Where's Jeb?"

Marian-the Director-Mari-shrugged, looking around.

"Charlie," the officer who was pushing her said to Charlie. "It ain't over. We got demonstrators all around the building. And that shithead Chu's leading them all."

"Chu? The DA?" Charlie asked.

"How many other fuckin' guys named Chu we got in the Bronx?" The officer shook his head. "Alright. Let's get the Whitecoa-er, defendants, outta here."

"I tried," Laurent said, shaking her head. "I tried to tell them...to talk to them..."

"It ain't your fault," Charlie insisted. "They're jackals. Dogs."

"You know? They don't know anything 'cept raising hell. I'm their only ally out there...their only friend!"

Charlie nodded in agreement, as the elevator doors opened.

There, in the middle of the vast marble hall, stood Jeb Batchelder, looking like a deer in the headlights.

"Batchelder!" Charlie shouted. "What the fuck ya doin'?"

He turned around, just as the people recognized him.

"_That's the guy...it's him, that fucker!"_

Once they saw the judge heading towards him, their anger grew.

"_Aaaayy! The judge's on the Whitecoats' side! Park Avenue justice!" _

"Come on, Judge," Jeb urged Laurent. "I'll go with you."

"We gotta go around the back," Charlie insisted, shaking his head. "They'll kill you. And I'm not joking."

Both inside and outside the courtroom were cries, cheers, shouts, demands for blood, along with a screaming alarm.

_Go out there, Batchelder! _Jeb told himself. _Don't run and hide! Face them head-on. You're Dr. Batchelder! _

"They'll kill you, Batchelder," Charlie repeated, more urgently.

"You out of your mind?" Laurent narrowed her eyes. "Come on. Don't be a dumbass."

The mob was heading towards them now. The tidal wave was rolling in.

"Get the fuck outta my way!" Jeb screamed, high on fear and exhilaration.

"Jeb! You're crazy!" the Director shrieked as the mob closed in on them. "We're gonna get our asses kicked."

This wasn't like the police raid. No, it was worse. The police raid was organized, a systematic destruction. This was more than that.

"It doesn't matter, Marian!" Jeb shouted back. "It just doesn't matter anymore!"

He would no longer hide from what he had done. Now he would face what had happened head-on, for instead of a judge, he now had the people of New York City to answer to.

In contrast to their attitude towards the Whitecoats, the people's attitude towards Max and Fang was much more positive.

"Max! Max! Max!" they all cheered as Max and Fang exited the building. Some of them were even wearing handmade "Team Max" T-shirts.

Still, Max was frightened. She looked around in shock at the crowd.

_I kicked a guy in the crotch! _she thought. _For the Director...what the hell is going on here? _

"Come on. It's okay," Fang said protectively, reaching around her waist. Even in the chaos, Max found his touch appealing.

"Hey!" another couple shouted. It was Nudge and Iggy, the kids from the hit-and-run. Nudge was holding on to Iggy protectively, much like Fang was holding onto Max.

"They have a car waiting for us on the street," Nudge explained. "It's Nudge, by the way."

"Let's go, then," Max said, leading the kids. The four of them walked through the mob, swiping paparazzi and citizens out of their way. Their motions reminded Max almost...almost like a flock of birds.

_The flock, _she thought humorously, despite the situation. _We're the flock._

"When you print this in the _Times," _she whispered to Fang, "make sure you call us the Flock."

"The Flock. Alright."

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Max leaned in, kissing Fang on the lips. She wasn't sure what it was driven by: attraction, or just pure energy. Either way, it was great.

"Come on, lovebirds," Nudge urged them. "We gotta go."

It was only after they had entered the car-a stretch limousine-that it hit Max.

The Whitecoats weren't in jail. They were free.


	37. If I Die Young

Unlike Roger Walker's funeral, the funeral of Gary "Gazzy" Michael Adams was a rather low-key event, seeing as he didn't have any other family in the city besides his sister Angel and his missing parents.

The funeral reception itself was held at the Martinez apartment. First, Valencia Martinez spoke a few words about Gazzy.

"Though I didn't know him for very long, I felt a connection with him regardless," Valencia said. "Unfortunately, he spent the last days of his life in pain and misery, living through things no human being should ever have to experience."

Some of the people from the Coalition to Stop the Madness clapped and nodded respectfully. Even though she was the president, Valencia had made it clear that the funeral was to be a politics-free zone, as to not upset Angel or the other guests. There would be no swearing, yelling, or even insulting the Whitecoats.

Speaking of the Whitecoats, also in attendance at the funeral were Jeb Batchelder, Anne Walker, and Marian Janssen. Jeb had figured it was only right, given the fact that they had been responsible for Gazzy's death, that they pay their final respects. The three of them had snuck in after everyone else and were sitting quietly in the back, as not to alert anyone's attention. Jeb had a feeling, given the fact they had been practically beaten up at court the previous day, they wouldn't receive a warm welcome.

After Valencia was done talking, Brigid Dwyer and her boyfriend, Bryce Marsden, pulled out guitars, one for each of them.

"Hello, everyone," Brigid said solemnly. "As you may know, I spent much of my young adulthood working for Itex. For that, I am sincerely sorry for all the harm I might have caused. Still, rather than passing blame, we should celebrate and remember the good times and the good things each of us has done for the world." She spotted the Whitecoats and smiled sadly. "And to those responsible for Gazzy's death..."

The crowd held their breath in anticipation of what Brigid may have had to say.

"Let me remind you of a quote. For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul? We have all made mistakes, and none of us are perfect. But we need to learn from history and move on, as to not make the same mistakes again."

Max, sitting up front, reached for Fang's hand and squeezed it.

_Who knew Brigid could be such a philosopher? _her look seemed to say.

"Without further ado, this song is dedicated to Gary Adams, whose life was cut short by the foolishness and cruelty of others."

Bryce strummed a chord on his guitar, and the song began...

_If I die young, bury me in satin_

_Lay me down on a bed of roses_

_Sink me in the river, at dawn_

_Send me away with the words of a love song_

_Uh oh, uh oh..._

_Lord make me a rainbow, I'll shine down on my mother_

_She'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colors_

_Oh, well_

_Life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no_

_Ain't even gray, but she buries her baby_

_The sharp knife of a short life, well_

_I've had just enough time..._

"I'm taking off," Marian whispered to Jeb. Anne nodded in agreement as the two stood up and slipped out of the apartment. Jeb chose to stay behind. He had one more loose end to tie with Ms. Max Martinez.

The song went on, as the people in the audience wept softly in memory of Gazzy.

Angel moved to sit next to Max and Fang.

"I'm sorry," Angel whispered to Max. "I know it wasn't your fault..." Her voice drifted off as tears fell down her cheeks.

"It's okay." Max wrapped her arms around the younger girl. "I'm here for you. I won't leave you behind again."

Brigid broke into the last verse of the song, locking eyes with Jeb.

_A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell 'em for a dollar_

_They're worth so much more after I'm a goner_

_And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singin'_

_Funny when you're dead how people start listenin'_

At her conclusion of the song, everyone clapped for her.

"Thank you," said Brigid, lowering her head humbly. She stepped away from the front, allowing Valencia to return.

"There's food in the kitchen," Valencia explained. "I also have a donation box available. All proceeds will go to the Center for Missing and Exploited Children. Again, thank you all for coming."

Once everyone began mingling, Jeb searched the room for Max, finally spotting her talking to Nicholas Ride, the reporter. _Wait, since when were they so close? _

"Max!" he said, waving to her.

She rolled her eyes and continued talking to the young reporter.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" she hissed.

Fang shrugged, watching him approach them.

"Max, I need to talk to you," Jeb insisted.

"What? Gonna kidnap me again?" Max snapped. "Face it_, _I don't give a _shit _about you."

"No, I need to tell you something," he said. "One, I'm sorry for everything that's happened to you. And two, I'm...well, there's no easy way to say this. I'm your father."

Max's head spun. _What? _she thought.

"Are you kidding?" she demanded.

Jeb shook his head. "Your mother and I have a...history," he said. Valencia, who suddenly appeared next to them, nodded in agreement.

"It's true, Max. You can trust him."

"Why the _hell _would I trust you? You kidnapped me, experimented on me, ruined my life! You know, everything was _fine _before you showed up. What, you think that because we share the same DNA gives you the right to rip me from my family?"

Valencia and Jeb looked at each other.

"And you, Mom, how couldn't you let this happen? You knew!" Max felt as furious as Angel had felt originally.

"I didn't know," Valencia pleaded. "Not about the kidnapping."

"I felt I had to do it," Jeb confessed. "For stupid reasons. I was stupid, that's what I was. Caught up in this game of money and power. But it wasn't worth it. And I'm so sorry."

"Why are you telling me this now? It doesn't make a difference," Max said. "It just doesn't change anything."

"Now that everything's over..."

"What? You want to play catch in the park? See a movie? Go to a Girl Scouts father-daughter dance?" Max was raising her voice now, getting angrier. "You. Kidnapped. Me. Who wants to live their lives with the police and cameras in their face 24/7? How do I even go back to my old life now? Do you even know what you did? And not even me! What about Gazzy, and the others?"

"I tried to stop it. I worked to improve things over there," Jeb said in a pleading tone.

Max's face softened, but only for an instant.

"Look, _Jeb,__" _she said. Biologically related or not, she refused to acknowledge he was her father. "I accept your apology, because holding grudges is for losers. But I don't forgive you, and I never will." She took a deep breath. "And don't think I'm letting you be a part of my life, either."

Jeb's heart sunk. Deep down, he had hoped for a decent relationship with Max. Maybe not a flowers-and-sunshine, catch-in-the-park relationship, but at least on speaking terms. Now? Now it was all over. He had fucked up for good.

"Okay," he sighed. "I can respect that."

Looking her in the eye, he said, "Have a good life, Max."

And because there was nothing left for him to do in the Martinez apartment, he decided to leave.


	38. Back to the Start

Jeb kicked a rock out of his way and sighed as he stepped out of the Stratford building on the Upper West Side. What had been the point of talking to Max, anyway? He didn't feel any less guilty, and she hadn't forgiven him. How could he expect her to, after what he had done to her? He _had _treated her pretty well at the School, but, well, he was responsible for her being there. Giving her newspapers and buying her Dunkin' Donuts coffee didn't make up for, in her words, "stabbing her with a million needles a second." If it wasn't for him, she'd be hanging out with her friends, checking out guys, going to the movies, and doing normal teenage-girl things. Not talking to police, testifying in court, and doing TV interviews for news stations.

And as for Nicholas Ride, who was apparently her boyfriend now, he felt jealous of him. Jeb had lost everything. His place at the top was replaced by Nicholas Ride, a brooding guy with shaggy hair and a fancy camera.

His new iPhone-Sam Greene had destroyed his old one-beeped with a text.

_Marian Janssen: At bank of america filing bankruptcy. Thanks for everything, it's been a good run. _

So, that was it. Bankruptcy meant that Itex was over, for good this time. They would liquidate all the assets, sell everything off. He had held on to a sliver of hope that maybe they could rebuild from what had happened, make Itex into a legitimate company. But nope, like everything else, the company itself had come crashing down. He had heard Brigid talking at the funeral about the company she was starting with her boyfriend in Itex's place-the Institute of Higher Living or something like that. Good for her. Jeb wished her the best of luck, and hoped she wouldn't end up like himself.

"Hey!" someone yelled at him as he walked. He ignored whoever it was-probably another pissed-off CSM protester.

"Don't fucking walk away, you asshole!" another voice said. He recognized it-

_Who're you? What do you think you're doing?_

It was Nudge, the girl present at his Bronx hit-and-run. Today, she was dressed in a black skirt, gray top, and black blazer for the funeral.

Nudge had just received a text from Max Martinez.

_Watch out for Jeb. He just told me he was my father and wants to be a part of my life. Ha yeah right! LOLOL_

"Do you know who I am?" the boy she was with demanded.

"James Griffith," Jeb answered, looking down.

"Hey. Look at him," Nudge snapped. "Look at what you did."

"I had a _normal life,_" Iggy insisted. "I had a good life. All I wanted to do that day was help some people out. And what did you want to do? Kidnap and experiment on us."

"_I _didn't want to," Jeb reminded him. "It was all the Director's idea."

"Stop blaming it on the fucking Director," Nudge said. "_You _went along with it. You had a choice. You know how many chances you had to turn yourself and Itex in? There are NYPD officers everywhere in the city! If you were really against it, as soon as you learned what was going on, you would've gone to the cops. It was your choice, and you chose to go along with it." She was talking quickly now, her voice becoming higher.

"I'm...sorry," Jeb said quietly. "I'm truly sorry, really, for everything. Please forgive me."

James-Iggy-shook his head. "I can't. I just can't."

"Get out of here," Nudge snapped. "You don't deserve to be near Max's apartment."

Jeb walked away, not looking back. He walked down into the West 72nd Street subway station. Only this time, rather than finding his downtown and crosstown trains home, he walked towards the sign that said "2 and 3 Trains: Uptown and the Bronx."

It seemed only fitting that he go back to the start, back to where it all began.

The Bronx.

Sitting down in the train, he saw an abandoned _New York Times _on the floor. The first thing he noticed was an article about Itex, of course.

_ITEX TRIAL DISMISSED, LEAVING PUBLIC OUTRAGED _

_By Nicholas Ride_

He glanced at it before throwing it back onto the floor. Jeb knew the full story-he had _been there, _felt it itself. So much for stopping the madness, the CSM had created a madness of its own.

Looking onto the side of the train confirmed that he was on an express train. There was no turning back now, he was headed back into the heart of the Bronx.

"This is a Wakefield-bound 2 train. The next stop is 149th Street, Grand Concourse," the announcer asked.

The train pulled into the Grand Concourse station. Jeb could get out now, but why bother? In that instant, he decided to ride the train all the way to the Wakefield stop, the end of the line.

Jeb thought about all that had happened. Who would have known, just three weeks ago, that one conversation could lead to all this? His discussion with Anne had led them into the Bronx, right into the tiger's mouth itself. Now he was jobless, soon to be broke, with no family or friends. His son had left him. His daughter hated him. Poor little Kathryn and Luke-his niece and nephew probably got a lot of static at school now. His life as he knew it was over.

What was the point of staying in New York City? There was nothing left for him there. He knew Brigid wouldn't offer him a job at her new company. Who would? Who in their right mind would want an illegal experimenter working for them? He was a liability to any employer, a malpractice insurance agent's worst nightmare. Maybe he should move back to Connecticut, to Stamford or Fairfield or something. People there read the _Times, _for sure, but at least he stood somewhat of a better chance of getting a new job out of the city.

He sighed. What difference would it make? He had been in the _national news. _Everybody knew what happened. If he couldn't get another job in the city, he couldn't get another job anywhere.

The train had come above ground now, and now they were at the Bronx Zoo, a place Jeb used to frequent as a child. He was so innocent then-he remembered going to the zoo with a father and asking to "see the birds, one more time please!" He was innocent, like Gazzy and the other kids he had victimized. Now, nobody involved in the Itex case was innocent, not at all.

_Innocence lost. _The children who had been kidnapped lost their innocence-now, all of them would spend years in therapy, trying to make some sort of sense out of what had happened. Their kidnappers weren't innocent, either. How could one be innocent when one spent their day job testing God knows what on said children?

He watched as the train pulled into the Wakefield-241st Street station. It was a beautiful, sunny day, even in the Bronx. The weather was hardly fit for a funeral.

Jeb's old life was over, dead and gone. There was nothing else he could do but make some sort of effort to start over, to fix what had happened. He wasn't sure how he would do it, but it had to be done.

The last thing he heard, stepping out of the subway car, was the announcer's voice:

"_This is the last stop on this train. Everyone please leave the train. Thank you for riding with MTA New York City transit..." _


	39. Epilogue

A year later, to the day, the following article appeared on page B1 of the New York News section of the New York Times:

_**ITEX DIRECTOR HELD LIABLE IN CLASS ACTION SUIT **_

_By Peter Fallow_

Former Itex physician and associate company director Marian Janssen hung her head in shame as she walked into the Bronx District Courthouse yesterday to hear the jury's verdict in the lawsuit against Itex Laboratories, Incorporated. Janssen, along with her employee Jeb Batchelder, was also held responsible for the car accident and kidnapping attempt which blinded James "Iggy" Griffith last year. The lawsuit was brought upon Janssen by Dr. Valencia Martinez, mother of Maxine and adoptive mother of Angel Adams, who were also kidnapped and held at Itex, after Gary "Gazzy" Adams, age 10, died from a fatal seizure as a result of an experiment performed at Itex by one of Janssen's employees. Several enraged parents of victims joined the case against Janssen, turning it into a class action suit against Itex as a whole. The civil charges Janssen faced were infliction of physical and emotional distress and reckless endangerment. Demonstrators from the Coalition to Stop the Madness, All People's Solidarity, and other organizations shouted "Justice at last" as the verdict was read. Itex's illegal and unethical human experimentation became the center of a political storm last year.

**A Woman Fallen**

Asked by reporters to comment on the contrast between her Park Avenue background and her current situation, Dr. Janssen shouted, "I don't have anything to do with Park Avenue. I'm a professional defendant. I've faced a year of harassment, and I'll face another-or maybe 25 to life." This was a reference to the prison sentence she would have faced, had she been convicted of the illegal experimentation charges last year. A tall, patrician figure, daughter of the cardiologist David Janssen and a graduate of Hunter College, New York University and Columbia University, Dr. Marian Janssen, 41, appeared "unkempt, unstylish and unladylike," wearing to court a pair of slim-fitting black yoga pants and a purple NYU T-shirt. This was a sharp contrast to the designer dresses and high-heeled shoes she was famous for wearing as the legendary Director of Itex. As she was ushered into court, Janssen said in response to queries about her unusual dress, "I told you, I'm not the Director anymore. I work as a GP. I'm a professional defendant...I might as well look the part."

**Diminished Lifestyle**

At the conclusion of the lawsuit, Jeb Batchelder appeared with suspicious bruises on his face. The bruises, according to police, were the result of an altercation in a bar, resulting in Dr. Batchelder being rushed to the hospital, where he foolishly denied medical treatment. He, unlike Janssen, had nothing to say about the trial and related events. Sources close to Dr. Janssen, whose worth was once estimated as more than $8,000,000, said that a year of legal and social turmoil has left her "barely able to put a slice of bread on the table." Formerly the owner of a $3,000,000 cooperative Park Avenue penthouse, the former Director now rents a modest studio apartment in the West Village of Manhattan. The charges against Dr. Janssen, as well as the hit-and-run charges against Dr. Batchelder and Anne Walker, a fellow Itex doctor, were dismissed after it was discovered that prosecutor Samuel Greene was having an affair with juror Lissa Rhodes. Neither Greene nor Rhodes agreed to speak to press about this incident.

**What Started It All**

The case of New York versus Itex began last year, after it was discovered that Maxine Martinez, then 16, was kidnapped by doctors at Itex and used for experimentation at the research facility. Rescued by _Times _reporter Nicholas Ride, as well as the now-CEO of the Institute for Higher Living (a medical research center located in Williamsburg, Brooklyn), Brigid Dwyer, Martinez reported after her escape that she was "saved in the nick of time." The investigation against Itex and its employees was led by the detectives of New York City's 86th Precinct, located on the Grand Concourse in the Bronx. Detectives, upon raiding the facility, discovered a plethora of evidence of illegal experimentation, most notably, the "test subjects" themselves, all between the ages of 4 and 18.

**"A Farewell to Innocence"**

Dr. Batchelder's legal problems were multiplied last week, when he and Dr. Walker lost a $12 million lawsuit to the Griffith family. Though Dr. Walker was shocked at the outcome, James Griffith remarked that she "should've seen it coming; she knew exactly what she was doing." Despite being blinded, Griffith's family and girlfriend, Monique "Nudge" Jones report that Iggy has been adjusting well to his new disability and looks forward to a bright future in college and beyond. Iggy was recently accepted early decision to George Washington University in Washington, DC, where he, along with Nudge, hope to major in criminology/pre-law studies.

How Dr. Batchelder might deal with this and other complex legal matters was uncertain. Reached at her home on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, Dr. Batchelder's former lawyer, Helena McConnell, said that she was no longer able to represent him due to his lack of sufficient funds to pay his legal fees. Ms. McConnell is, however, heated in her support of Itex and its employees. In a speech given to a private luncheon group yesterday, she referred to the lawsuits brought against Itex with a scatological expletive, and said that the "lower, middle and upper classes will always be at war with one another."

Judge Renee Laurent, who was assigned to the case against Itex last year, on the other hand, could not have been more in favor of the lawsuits. Said Judge Laurent, "If the case was being tried in foro conscientiae _[in the court of the conscience], _the verdict would read unanimously 'Guilty.'" Judge Laurent called the entire series of events "a farewell to innocence for everyone involved, as nobody managed to come out unscathed, legally, socially, or economically."

Dr. Valencia Martinez, president of the Coalition to Stop the Madness, dismissed McConnell's words as "the usual upper-class snobbery we see in New York." She said, "Only preferential treatment by certain elements of the judicial system has protected Itex from the law so far. It is tragic that it has required the death of Gazzy Adams, a boy in the prime of his youth, to see to it that justice will at last be served in this case."

Nicholas Ride, 18, who is reportedly dating Maxine Martinez and is the winner of a Pulitzer Prize for his coverage of the Itex case, could not be reached for a comment. He is currently in Los Angeles, California with his family as well as the Martinez, Griffith, and Jones families, celebrating this prestigious award.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Aaaand...we're done! Yes, this story is finally over! Stay tuned, for I will be posting a list of actors/actresses who could play all the characters in this story, as well as a few dedications and acknowledgments (also, could you spot the Bonfire of the Vanities character? Yup...Mr. Peter Fallow!). I will be working on another Maximum Ride story soon, as well as a Hunger Games story, so stay tuned for those as well!**

**Now that the story is over, please review and tell me what you think! I hope you all enjoyed this story, and have a great day! **

**Love,**

**xoxoeosvugirl (Jess)**

**Also, feel free to add me on Facebook! My link is in my profile (: I love talking to my reviewers!**


	40. Announcement!

Hello AFTI readers! I wanted to announce that I have just written a SEQUEL to A Farewell to Innocence, called New York, I Love You. It is based on A Man In Full by (no surprise) Tom Wolfe and involves both Maximum Ride characters, public figures and characters of my own. Feel free to read and review! (:

**Plot Summary: **

It is the fall of 2013, two years after Maxine Martinez was kidnapped. Now, Max is a freshman at New York University and dating Columbia junior and famous _New York Times _reporter Nicholas "Fang" Ride. All is well for the couple, until the publisher of Fang's Pulitzer Prize-winning book, Mark Dupont, is arrested for the statutory rape of fifteen-year-old Beth Gibbons. Suddenly, Fang must defend his association with the publisher and save his writing career. In between school, her internship at a prestigious law firm, and helping her boyfriend save face, Max must deal with the return of her destitute father (and kidnapper) Jeb Batchelder.

Meanwhile, Dr. Marian "The Director" Janssen, the former CEO of the company which was responsible for Max's kidnapping, struggles to pay her many debts to society and the Martinez family by working as a general practitioner in the impoverished Bronx. However, old habits die hard: Marian attempts to experiment on 8-year-old Rosie Turner, a girl straight out of the South Bronx projects. When her mother Evelyn learns of the incident, tensions are ignited once again and race riots begin all across New York City. Marian once again finds herself spiraling into the depths of the New York legal system-and back into the courtroom of the notoriously tough Judge Renee Laurent. Bronx District Attorney Robert Chu is eager to redeem himself after failing to convict Marian in 2011, and begins pushing for a conviction with new ADA Rachel Kearney, further increasing racial and socioeconomic struggles around the city.

As new and old faces collide, Max's life returns to the chaotic state she swore she'd never go back to. Time may pass, but some people never change, and some scars never fully heal.


End file.
